


Fake It Till You Make It

by ObsidianEagle, thealphadog



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff and Humor, Heavy Angst, M/M, Party King Magnus, Slow Burn, Swimmer Alec
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-23
Updated: 2018-07-24
Packaged: 2019-05-10 05:46:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14731091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObsidianEagle/pseuds/ObsidianEagle, https://archiveofourown.org/users/thealphadog/pseuds/thealphadog
Summary: For Alec, one thing is certain; he has to get from one end of the pool to the other as fast as possible. For Magnus, one thing is concrete; he has to be the best party planner this university has ever seen.But as worlds collide; new people, new friendships, secrets beginning to unfold - it may not be easy for them to live life the same anymore.“You know what they say, Alexander. You gotta fake it until you make it.”





	1. Through The Window

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all! It's Beth (thealphadog) and Nicole (ObsidianEagle) here. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who's hyped this fic up from the very beginning. Nicole and I have been working hard on this baby for a hot minute, and I'm extremely lucky to get to work with such a talented writer. This is my (Beth, hey) first collaborative fic, or collaborative anything, to be honest, and the way it's turned out so far has exceeded our expectations.
> 
> We've also been having the BEST TIME writing it, and the support we've received already is insane.
> 
> I really hope you guys enjoy this fic, and that you bare with us in terms of upload timings; the way we write a chapter usually takes a lot of time, a lot of back and forth and A LOT of words. 
> 
> just to clear things up before you shout at us, there will be NO romantic jace and alec, this chapter may give you that feeling at one tiny, tiny part, but this is not going to have that, at all - thank you! 
> 
> you can follow us at @karasunoflyy and @sparklybuck, we hope you enjoy!
> 
> we'll add tags as the chapters go to avoid spoilers, and please read these notes for trigger warnings for future chapters, because there will be sensitive topics discussed in this fic - just as a warning!
> 
> you can live tweet this chapter, or any of your reactions using the tag #FITYMIfic and we'll see them! 
> 
> This is just the beginning, y'all.

Life is a set course, one step at a time as each person climbs the ladder. From a small little thing that can barely speak words, to brilliant scientists curing life threatening diseases, everyone is futurebound for something great.

The hardest part?

Getting there, reaching the top, finding the strength and stamina to survive through _years_ of education and life lessons - that’s what stops people.

When you’re standing at the bottom, staring up at this big obstacle they call life, who would _dare_ themselves to take that first step? Well, all people do, they have to, that’s society. Some people break the rules, to go against what’s kept the peace, and some simply follow them, hoping whatever God is up there that they believe in gives them a lucky week.

The worst part of it all? Not knowing, not being able to control what the next sunrise brings, what lies around the corner.

Alec hates that the most, the knowledge of how powerful words can be, how tightly they can grip around his throat and keep him quiet. He knows secrets all too well, and as he watches trees whip past him through the car window, he’s once again struck with the feeling of not knowing.

University - arguably the biggest stepping stone in Alec’s life so far, the beacon of _your dream life will start here._

 _Bullshit,_ he’d say, scoffing and going back to what he’s reading, or fidgeting with the pen in his hands as his old college tutors blabber on about it. Alec doesn’t need to be told it’s important, and considering the amount of money he has to pay to even _go,_ that’s clearly no walk in the park.

Thankfully, and sometimes not so, his parents are rich enough so he doesn’t have to apply for loans. Alec takes a moment to think of those who do, how much it must hurt to pay for something that should be enjoyable, since this is going to be start of some of their careers. To graduate, but have that smile fade because you owe money, that can’t be a good feeling, and it _sucks_ to think that people are going through that right now.

Alec’s not an open guy, no, but that doesn’t mean he’s heartless. Frankly, his sister Isabelle would argue he has one of the most neglected, calling him out for being a _big softy_ under the almost permanent frown.

He’s 20, the whole world at his feet. With his ambition, strong jaw and immense need to become a professional swimmer, the next three years of Alec’s life should be a damn breeze, according to his rather stoney mother. Alec only has time to be dubbed that _big softy_ for Isabelle and Max, his parents not exactly being in the same friendship group.

Alec knows that he has to work hard to get to where he wants, and with the grades he achieved last year he could have gone _anywhere._ Harvard, Yale, Brown; but no. He settled for the Alicante University of Brooklyn instead; his hometown. The one place where he can eat a 20” pizza in broad daylight, and _then some._

Besides, the bigger universities are _incredibly_ obnoxious, taking more pride in how good they can make themselves look rather than the students. With a campus that big, with _that_ many students, Alec would feel like part of a horde, plagued by sleepless nights and those red cups filled to the brim with cheap booze. Thankfully Alec isn’t one for parties, but from the stories he hears back and forth, there hasn’t been one student that goes through these three years _without_ trying. They have to get through the exam season somehow, and celebration afterwards of course.

As the world scrolls past him, Alec lays his head back, the lumps and bumps of the road making the car shake as they move towards large open fields and stretching forests. Away from the big city, away from the pollution that would otherwise cling to their clothes. It’s all a bit surreal, considering the last week he’s been twiddling his thumbs that this is actually _real,_ that this is happening, that he’ll _finally_ get the chance to start swimming for his career.

He’s been doing it for years, ever since his little arms had the strength to keep him afloat. Maryse has always been proud of him, for doing well in his grades at school as well as extra curricular activities. Telling her about wanting to do it professionally, to be the top of his game and compete for his country, that sparked a family debate.

If he isn’t good enough, he won’t make it, and his parents are worried that he won’t have anything to fall back on. So, Alec won’t choose a swimming course outright, but join a club and sign up for the team. From what he knows, the University isn’t very good in the sports department, which means Alec has a chance to be the rising star.

Not that he wants the attention, he just wants to prove himself to his parents more than anything. Isabelle doesn’t see why he does, since Alec should be focusing on himself rather than his parents approval, but he’s a Lightwood - that’s how stubborn they are.

Alec is meant to be the role model, the big brother to be the shining example, the topic of conversation when his parents go off on business trips halfway around the world. They call him a _rising star,_ and if that doesn’t make him a little excited to say that _yes, I am,_ then Alec would by lying to himself.

It’s not illegal to dream, but he also knows having a big ego will make him sink before he can swim, as ironic as that sounds. Alec can’t live much of a social life while he’s here, because if he wants to be the best, he has to _train._

Sweat, ache, tears - he’ll repeat that as many times as his body can take, to push his mind and body to the extreme like any other athlete. Alec will punch that punching bag until the brackets break, until his knuckles bleed, until his arms literally feel like jelly.

But on the other side, he’ll also have to study, to keep his grades up so they don’t kick him from the team. Typical stuff, really, but Alec’s willing to sacrifice how many friends he has on Facebook to get where he wants to be. Reward never comes without sacrifice, and he’s already done enough of that to feel numb to it, as haunting as that sounds.

There’s an itch right now, to get his adrenaline pumping, to feel the sweat dripping down his nose - maybe because he has one of his workout playlists thumping through his headphones. Alec can’t go anywhere without them, really, especially if he’s going to be stuck in a car with his parents for an hour.

He could have driven himself, but Alec doesn’t really plan on driving anywhere outside of campus, and usually everything he needs will be in walking or bus distance. _However,_ as life would have it, his parents _insisted_ they’d drive him, to have that one last car ride before he’s expected to be entirely independent. When he was changing songs earlier, he heard his parents mumble about how his legs used to dangle on the car seat, and now, he can’t seem to find a car with enough leg room. A downside to being so tall, unfortunately, upside being he’s got the legs to really power him through the water.

With other hopefuls just like Alec signing up too, then he has a real competition on his hands before the real ones even begin. Inside, he hopes they aren’t egotistical men who boast about how big their biceps are, or how _smooth that front crawl was, bro!_

Alec just wants to swim, and if that one friend comes along to be by his side, then why not? He really can’t expect to go through his whole three years eating alone, studying alone or having the _I have three hours to hand this assignment in_ breakdown without someone egging him on. All part of the university experience, to fall over twice before you can stand back up again - and he’s not talking about the fresher parties.

Just as his brain ventures to dangerous territory, where he’ll begin to think about how awkward and quiet he’s going to be at parties his future hall mates will drag him to, they arrive.

Maryse shuts off the radio, and Isabelle gently nudges her arm into Alec’s arm, prompting him to sit up and smile back at her.

She wouldn’t be Alec’s sister if she didn’t know that smile, the one that doesn’t last long. Forced, an echo of the fear he feels inside because Alec doesn’t know what happens next. Well, he _does,_ but Alec can’t predict his swim team, nor can he predict his coach, his future friends or how hard these three years are actually going to be.

Alec turns away, not wanting to give away how scared he really does feel. A false effort, because Isabelle doesn’t need to see his face to know.

“Hey,” Isabelle nudges Alec again, seeing him pulling the headphones from his ears, “You’ll be fine. You’ve got this.”

And how he wishes he could believe those words. He’s been thinking all journey about how he’ll be the best, he’ll work hard, but now he’s actually _here._ To put his money where his mouth is, to make this dream a reality, it’s much easier to say than do.

In reply, Alec simply nods his head, Isabelle not pushing any further. Music always helps calm him, and not having his thoughts silent works wonders to keep him level headed. If he’d listened to Maryse and Robert on his way down, his lungs probably would’ve felt strangled, thick with tar as the hefty weight of making his parents proud beckons him once again.

Isabelle heard it all, from how he’ll lead a length ahead of all his rivals, how he’ll give his team the lead they need in the relays. It conflicts him, because Alec is thankful his parents think so much of him, but a curse because of that pressure.

Perhaps one day he’ll learn to do things for himself, to lift some of that weight from his shoulders and be his own man. That day isn’t today, because Alec is still very much Alec Lightwood, the stubborn big brother who wants to make the people he loves proud.

“Look, Alec. They have a cheerleading squad here,” Maryse said, bobbing her head to one side. Alec stared out the window of the slowly moving car as it passed the football field, where a group of ten or so girls were practicing summersaults. He looks away, face stern.

Alec’s father stopped the car alongside many others, towards the entrance to the halls of residence for freshman students, and Alec had to remind himself not to hold his breath. Being reserved was in Alec’s nature, much to his dismay. The years of missing parties, giving up on friendships and never having a long term relationship; all so he could get _here._

All so he could become the man he wanted to be.

But at what price?

Robert popped the boot of the car and began dragging out the countless boxes of Alec’s belongings. Maryse stared at her phone with squinted eyes. “Seraph Halls, Flat C, Room 4.” she pointed upwards to the third floor of the looming residence building, counting along the windows and stopping on the fourth. “That’s you.”

Alec didn’t need to hide his excitement--

Because he _wasn’t_ excited. Despite university being the next stepping stone, the next part of his life, Alec wasn’t looking for anything new. In fact, the reason he’d picked Alicante was for one reason, and one reason alone--

The Olympic sized swimming pool that they had on campus.

It’s taking everything inside him not to rush his parents and Izzy to help him get all his shit inside and leave; just so he could head straight over to the pool, to maybe even take a quick dip, to have that smell of chlorine stuck to his skin again.

Izzy grabbed two boxes with ease, and approached her brother, nudging him playfully. “Stop staring into space and let’s go and decorate your new room,” She shot him the biggest smile, one that not even Alec could ignore. He takes one of the boxes from her politely, shoving it under his right arm.

Thank _god_ there’s an elevator; the trip to the third floor would’ve been excessively worse without it, alongside Alec and his family, each holding _far_ too much stuff, simply because they couldn’t be bothered to pull two trips to the car. How typical of the Lightwood’s.

Alec struggled, but eventually managed to twist the key so his dorm room opened, revealing--

_The smallest room he’d ever seen._

Alec knew uni halls weren’t the best, but _this_ . This was almost; _almost_ ; unlivable. To the right was a built in desk with drawers on either side of a worn out desk chair. Directly to the left, leaving practically _no room_ for Alec to actually sit down at the desk, was the bed.

Alec sat down, the mattress creaking beneath his weight, and laid back--

His feet dangled off the end.

“Well,” Maryse let out, peering around the room with a face full of judgement. “It’s very-- _homely.”_

“It’s a shoebox, Mom.” Alec spoke, his voice low, staring at the damp stained ceiling above his head. Izzy frowned at her brother, before catapulting herself onto the bed next to him.

 _“Lighten up._ Once you unpack and put up some stuff on the walls, maybe open the windows, it’ll be so much better.” She shot her brother another starry smile; putting the anxious butterflies in his stomach to rest; and a surge of motivation suddenly coursed through Alec’s body.

For the next hour, Izzy and Alec worked relentlessly. While Maryse and Robert went to the shop to stock up Alec’s cupboards in the kitchen, his room had now been transformed into something completely different.

A cork board hung on the wall next to Alec’s bed, showing off some of his swimming medals, movie stubs and concert tickets he’d kept. His clothes were folded neatly in his small as hell closet, but it’s lucky Alec only has about ten shirts and seven pairs of pants. _All black,_ with the exception of the _‘Mr Grumpy’_ t-shirt Izzy got him for his eighteenth birthday. Fresh air streams in through the windows, and music blasts from the portable speaker Alec had brought. His bathroom was clean; well, _as it’ll ever be_ ; and he could fit in the shower just fine.

The two of them slumped down onto Alec’s creaky mattress, taking a minute to survey their work.

“Not so bad now, is it?” Izzy sent her brother a smug smile. He nudged her back.

“That’s your _'I told you so’_ face,”

“Well--,” Izzy began, and Alec fell back onto the bed, covering his ears.

 _“Don’t_ say it--,”

 _“I told you so.”_ Alec let out a fake yell as Izzy tried to keep in her laughter.

Despite the fact that she, too, would be studying here; it was totally different. Her engineering course was simply _run_ at the university, not an actual course at Alicante. Besides, she was still too young to attend college, so just had to cope with commuting three days a week.

Still, though. That meant four other days of the week not being around her big brother. This is the first time Alec isn’t just down the hall from her; the first time she’ll experience living on her own with her parents; what with Max being at boarding school, as well.

“Promise me you’ll call.” She said suddenly, causing Alec to sit up so fast he got headrush.

“Iz, of course I’ll call.” Alec watched as her eyes begin to well, and then his arms are around her without question. “I’m an hour away on the train. I’m _five minutes_ away from you, Monday through Wednesday.” Izzy scoffed slightly in his embrace, pulling back and wiping away her tears.

“I know,” She said, and Alec flashed her a reassuring smile. “It’s just-- Mom and Dad--,”

“If a day ever gets tough, you _call me,_ OK? No excuses.”

Maryse and Robert; the power couple of the decade. But-- that decade was fast approaching its end. It wasn’t fair that Izzy had to go through this alone, living at home with just them. It wasn’t fair for any of the Lightwood kids--

But that’s just life.

Alec has a place in his heart set aside for just his siblings, and the fact that he knew Izzy was, at most, an hour away, made everything a lot easier to process. Isabelle Lightwood; she was strong. She was wise beyond her seventeen years. She’d taught Alec more than he’d ever admit, and she knew things about him that even he didn’t know for certain.

He was going to miss her. Like crazy.

Izzy swiped away the rest of her tears, and it was as if she’d never been crying. The two of them sat in comfortable silence for a moment, catching their breath still. That’s when they heard voices from the flat corridor--

“I’m a music major, if you can believe it,” The voice of a man echoed into Alec’s room.

“Marine biology.” A girl replied, and then the two of them just happened to stop in front of Alec’s dorm. The guy met his eye, his face lighting up awkwardly.

“Oh, hey!” He waved at both Lightwood’s, shoving his glasses further up his nose. The first thing Alec noticed about him, despite the fact his voice was _high_ , was how _pale_ he was. The two of them politely step into Alec’s room. “Wow-- you’ve already unpacked everything.”

Alec huffed to himself, looking around his room with a smile and a nod once more. Without warning, Izzy got up from the bed, heading straight for the door. Alec shot up, shooting her a concerned look. She turned back to him, her eyes gleaming. “I’ll go find Mom and Dad. Text you later.” She sent him a final smile, as well as a small wave to Alec’s new flat mates, and then she was gone.

Alec tries not to smile to himself, because he knows what she’s playing at. _Make friends,_ she’s trying to say.  _Meet new people,_  she practically yells it at him with her eyes. _Let someone in,_ she whispers at him.

“Was that your sister?” The girl chided, her hair in puffy ringlets, her skin radiating warmth, despite the awkwardness that loomed over all of them. Alec tried not to stare, though--

At the colossal scars on her neck. Three of them, swiping round from the nape to her collar bone.

“Little sister.” Alec replied, finally.

“I’m Maia, by the way,” She stuck out her hand, and Alec took it politely, sending her a nod.

“Alec,” He folded his arms after the shake finished. Meeting new people had never been Alec’s _forte_ , especially in this kind of situation where he was actually _living_ with these two people for an entire year.

“And-- I’m Simon. Simon Lewis.” The boy stuttered out, sending Alec an awkwardly toothy smile. Alec remembered reading that he’d be living with three others; one was still yet to arrive. Either way, his first interactions with Simon and Maia haven’t been a disaster; which was one good thing, he supposed. “So,” Simon started up again, pointing at himself with a comical face. “Music major,” He pointed at Maia, waiting for her to respond.

She looked from Simon to Alec, and back again, finally getting it. _“Oh_ \-- Marine biology.” Simon, lastly, pointed at Alec, who tried not to scoff.

“Sports science.”

 _"Oh,_ a sporty one?” Simon gingerly steps forward, squinting as he pokes his hand forward. The gradual frown on Alec’s face says it all, at how he just _knows_ what’s coming, “I can see that.”

He feels the prod to his bicep, and Alec has to contain his sigh, giving a little lift of his eyebrows, as if to say; _are you done?_ Maia finds it amusing, as in the short hours of knowing Simon, this is pretty much how he is.

“Impressive, I might have to call you to carry my gig equipment around sometime,” adjusting his glasses, he gives Alec another once over before returning to where his eyes should be, his _face._ Sue him for admiring a handsome man, especially one that can be useful, “Perhaps even protect me from some bullies.”

“No one gets bullied in university, Simon.”

“Well now you’ve just jinxed all of us.”

Alec can already see himself wearing his headphones way too much around Simon, and if he gets hearing loss by the end of these three years, it’ll be better than a headache, “I’m _not_ carrying any of your gig equipment for you, or whisking you off your feet to save you.”

“Ah, what if there’s _money_ in it for you?” Simon shot a wink at Alec; which was, technically, more like a very slow blink.

“Simon,” Maia elbows the guy, rolling her eyes at the failure to zip his mouth before his brain can process words, “You can’t bribe him.”

“I’m not a mercenary.” Alec adds, arms crossing his chest. Thankfully he’s rather tall, and Simon seems to shrink at Alec’s defensive stance.

“What _are_ you then?” Maia asks, trying to curve the conversation so Simon won’t ask about his gym schedule or how many greens he eats.

“Swimmer.” Alec gestures with his thumb over his shoulders, towards the cork board where his previous achievements hang. Maia raises her eyebrows quickly, flicking her eyes over the multiple awards that Alec is obviously very proud to display.

“A _swimmer,_ huh?” Simon chimed in, and Alec couldn’t stop himself from rolling his eyes this time. Maia pursed her lips at the music major. “What do you specialise in? The-- _breast_ \-- stroke?” As if on cue, Simon prodded one of Alec’s pecks.

Alec stares at him, his face utterly blunt. Simon begins to laugh awkwardly to himself, as Maia and Alec keep shooting glances at each other; Maia mouths a _‘Sorry’_ ; Alec looked like he was ready to _break_ Simon’s glasses in two.

“OK, I’ll stop.” Simon let out quickly, taking a step back from the two of them, his hand scratching the back of his neck with anxiety. “I’ll-- _just,”_ He let out, gesturing to Alec’s door. Then he turned on his heels, suddenly, and sprinted out of Alec’s dorm without another word.

Maia scoffed at the floor, trying her best not to completely explode into laughter. She looked up at Alec, and he couldn’t keep a straight face anymore. The corners of his mouth upturn playfully, his body shaking slightly as the giggles course through him. Maia grabbed hold of her hair, pushing it back off her face. “ _God_ ,” She let out. “I’m sorry. He means well-- he really does.”

“You met him today, right?” Alec asked, and Maia sent him a nod. “You already seem to know him pretty well, then.” Maia took in a breath, her mind trying to find something to say in response. Alec could see the cogs working behind her eyes.

“I guess-- he’s pretty open.” She looked up at Alec, giving him a thoughtful smile. “I can tell he’s a good guy.”

Alec inhaled through his nose sharply.

“Anyway-- I have unpacking to do. _A lot_ of unpacking.” Maia left then, sending an awkward wave at Alec  and shutting his door behind her. Alec breathed out properly for the first time since the two of them entered his room. This friendship stuff; this uni life; Alec had only been part of it for a number of hours, yet he’s already getting tired.

Alec’s phone buzzed in his pocket; a text from Izzy--

_[In your kitchen, all the bags are unpacked. Come say goodbye.]_

Robert fiddled with his car keys, the look in his eyes telling Alec that he’s ready to leave. His father becomes so simple to read sometimes that it drives him insane. The flat kitchen is an average size, four separate sections for each resident to keep their pots and pans, as well as two stoves to use and a refrigerator. An L-shaped sofa lines one corner of the room, with a table just in front.

Maryse sat with a blonde man, speaking happily about Alec’s course. When he walked in, the blonde guy stared at him, sending him a welcoming smile.

 _This must be the fourth flat-mate_ , Alec thought. And funnily enough--

“Hey, I’m Jace,” He got up, sticking out his hand for Alec to shake. “Your Mom was just telling me you’re doing the same course as me-- Sports science, right?” Alec found himself smiling at the thought of being in the same lectures as him. At least he has one of his flatmates to study with.

“Yeah,” Alec perched on the sofa, squishing Izzy in closer to Maryse. “Super excited.”

“You gonna join the football team? Bet you’d make a good quarterback,” Jace smiled with his teeth, and Alec was taken aback, but he didn’t know _why_ \-- all he knew was that the butterflies in his stomach had just gone _crazy._

“No-- not for me.” Alec smiled as best he could, despite the massive pit that opens in his gut. “I’m a swimmer.” Jace raised his eyebrows, letting out a slow whistle.

“That’s gotta be _tough,”_

“It’s nothing I can’t handle.” Alec smirked at Jace, who sent him back an equally smug grin.

Their joking cuts short when Robert jingles the car keys. “Maryse, I have that meeting--,”

“Yes, _OK,_ Robert.” She bursts out, her face immediately dropping. Alec shot a scowl at his father, who takes the hint.

“I’ll wait in the car,” Alec’s father looked at him, his face etched with something that he couldn’t pin down. “Have the best time, Alexander.” Robert left, but not before looking towards Izzy, who was trying her best not to look furious.

Maryse stood up, straightening out her dress. “Call me whenever, keep up with your studies, _don’t_ party too much--,”

“Do you _know_ who you’re talking to, Mom?” Alec scoffed, and Maryse wrapped him up in a large embrace. He could feel her shaking. When they separated, Maryse’s eyes were glassy, her lip quivering. She planted a kiss on his cheek, and left quickly; without turning back.

Izzy bombarded into her brother, snaking her arms around his neck. “Tell me _everything,_ all the time,” She smiles, before re-coiling into herself. “But not about all the people you sleep with, that’s just weird.” Alec shoved his hands in her face, pushing her away from him playfully.

“Stay out of trouble,” he added, and Izzy’s eyes shone.

“No promises.” She skipped out of the kitchen, sending Jace a subtle wave.

And then it was just the two of them left. Alec strolled back to the couch, slumping onto it like he’s just ran a damn marathon. Jace slid up next to him, letting out a few breathy chuckles. “Your family seems really cool.” Alec couldn’t help but turn to him with a smile.

“They are.”

He watched as Jace’s eyebrows furrowed deviously for a moment, before his eyes met Alec’s full on.

“So, about you _not_ partying--,” Jace held up his phone screen to Alec’s face. It was a tweet going around the campus like wildfire;

 

_Calling all Alicante Freshman._

_Welcome to the realm of the wicked._

_Warlock Street, House no.38, 10pm._

_\- Gatsby._

 

“Gatsby?” Alec scoffed. “As in, _'The Great Gatsby’?”_ All Jace could do was nod with excitement. “This guy is famous for campus parties?”

“He’s _the_ Party King, _everyone_ will be there.” Alec could’ve rolled his eyes, but Jace caught onto his annoyance immediately. “All I’m asking is-- _twenty minutes tops._ We can be _in,_ we can be _out,_ alright?” The fact that Jace wasn’t so fast to disregard Alec immediately, that he wanted him to be there--

He couldn’t say no.

Alec sighed, and turned to his new friend. _"Fine._ Let’s go find Gatsby.”


	2. Liquid Confidence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey! thanks for all the positive feedback on the first chapter! this is gonna be a long ride, and we're just getting started.
> 
> to clear some things up, we know you guys hate the 'magnus is always associated with glitter' trope, but for the party theme in this chapter, it's relevant. that won't be his image outside of the party, so don't worry about that annoying trope, it's strictly for the party only. 
> 
> other than that, we hope you enjoy! and remember you can live tweet/react with #FITYMIfic :D

****A few hours ago Alec promised himself he wouldn’t go to these parties, that he’ll focus on training and hit the ground running.

Funny how that turns out.

If Jace is his flatmate, _and_ on the same course, then Alec has something to lose. He never said anything about not finding new friends, and as much as he hates the thought of going to this party to hang out with him, it’s a necessary evil. Alec might even meet a few people here, considering Jace _did_ say _everyone_ would be here.

That may have been an exaggeration, since the tweet only said freshers, but Alec won’t doubt all years of the university being there if this guy is the so called _king_ of parties.

So, why not? Down a few shots of the strong stuff and fear an existential crisis, or drink the cheap booze like water until you get stupid drunk and lose control of your legs. What could possibly go wrong, since it’s not like he’s _going_ to drink.

It’s probably just going to be some little house, students vomiting up their first round of drinks on the sidewalk, windows flashing different colours from the lights inside. They say the memories you want to remember are the ones you forget, so maybe the people who come here get _so_ drunk that they wake up and think _that must have been a wild ass party._

Alec doesn’t know how to trust himself, especially if he’s trying to _fit in,_ as much as that could possibly mean. He’s not going to try and prove himself, become the big broody, handsome jock that all the girls have secret phone backgrounds of, _hell no._

He just wants to get to know Jace a bit more, to establish at least _one_ friend that he can talk to about Sports Science. Maybe they can go train together, as maybe Jace is strong in areas where Alec isn’t, and to have that supportive friend when his mind is too tired to keep moving - it means the world to an athlete.

Putting on a black jacket, he heads out the door with Jace. He doesn’t bother doing anything fancy, nor does he decide to change from what he travelled in. It’s only a party, and frankly, he could turn up in his pajamas and only a small number of people would recall him wearing them the next morning.

All he does is quickly shake his fingers through his hair, letting his fringe settle to the side, hands in his pockets soon after as Jace locks the door to their flat.

“Have you unpacked?” Alec asks purely so the silence doesn’t become so awkward.

 _“Nah,”_ the blonde double checks the door is locked by pulling the handle, shoving the keys and his room card into his pocket, “I’ll do it another time, I can live with what I have for a week until I get desperate. Also, since I didn’t do it today, I can’t really do it tomorrow because the sign ups for teams start. If you’re gonna be a swimmer, you might want to head there.”

“I was told about that,” Alec presses his lips together, poking his tongue at his teeth towards the back, “But I might go for a swim tomorrow morning.”

The boys take the elevator, Jace pressing the button for the ground floor as Alec leans against the back. Jace continues their conversation as soon as the door closes.

“You don’t plan on getting wasted on your first night?” He smirks, challenging him to smirk back, but Alec just shakes his head, laughing.

“Not really, no. I don’t drink.”

“So if I get beyond wasted, you’re not going to wait for me in the morning?”

Now Alec smirks, shaking his head as he turns towards the elevator doors, walking through them as they open, Jace following behind. “I don’t think I need to hold your hand. You’re going to be a jock, I can’t hurt your image.”

“And so are you, big guy,” Jace elbows his side, making Alec snort, frowning down towards the small man, “Don’t give me that. Your mother told me how good you are, miles ahead of all your other mates simply because you work so hard.”

Alec sighs, leaning his head back a little as they exit through the front doors. The cold air of the night is rather refreshing, easing his nerves just enough to let him breathe easier.

“I will be, but I don’t _want_ to be. I’m here to win for my team, get scouted, that’s all.” Alec says it short and sharp, little emotion behind it.

Jace doesn’t see why he’s so driven on this swimming thing. Sure, he can be determined, but then there’s blinding yourself to the world around you. He looks away for a moment, pursing his lips at the thought of Alec destroying his own social life for the sake of a career. Honourable, but if Alec forgets how to live, how is he going to do it after he’s burned through all his years?

If he’s just going to brave being alone, Alec’s life after he can’t compete anymore is going to _suck._ Like, _really._

What if he obtains an injury, something that pulls him out of the pool permanently? Then he _won’t_ be able to swim at all, and his dream will stop dead.

“That’s pretty harsh.” Jace looks back, noticing Alec is now looking ahead with a blank expression.

“Life is harsh.”

 _“I know--”_ Shoving his hands into his pockets, Jace sighs, “Just don’t forget about you, yeah? Have one night, take a breather.”

Alec can’t believe he’s hearing this, that his flatmate is _already_ lecturing him about his own career. He gets enough of that at home.

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore, alright?” Gritting those words through his teeth, Alec moves his neck to the side, sighing to himself.

“Sure,” Jace _could_ leave it at that, but he decides not to, “But we’re on the same course, we’re in the same flat - if you need anyone to talk too… ?”

“Thanks,” Alec’s sharp to reply, giving an ever so small smile towards him, one that’s painful to look at, “You too.”

Conversation flows pretty well after that, Jace talking about his _sick_ overarm throw that scored his school the championship trophy two years ago. He sounds as determined as Alec, but more outgoing, a little reckless. He isn’t the type of guy Alec usually becomes friends with, but then again, Alec doesn’t really _have_ any friends.

University seems to be changing him already, opening him up to new people and allowing himself to smile. He can smile, of course, but besides Isabelle, Max and the cat that visits their house back home every Wednesday - he doesn’t really have a _reason_ to.

He’s punched the water of a pool when he wins a race, roared in celebration with his team as they score the winning trophy, but that’s adrenaline, the result of making his parents and himself proud.

That smile isn’t because he wants to, it’s because he _needs_ to.

Otherwise, he might go insane.

He wants something, perhaps even _someone_ to take him by surprise, to make him smile because he’s _happy._

It’s hard to explain, and frankly, Alec can’t even understand it himself. But there’s always that empty feeling, a cold dread that takes him by surprise at moments he doesn’t expect--

Like the last piece of toast on his plate, one earphone in and the other playing music to the air, the extra bit of coffee in the coffee machine--

The empty pillow beside him when he wakes up.

It makes him swallow the sour taste in his mouth, blinking the world back into focus as Jace keeps talking about something.

“--and it looks _cool._ Maybe we can go to the sign ups together tomorrow?”

Alec takes a moment, but he nods, smiling. “Sure.”

“Still not waiting for me?”

“No.”

“Alright.” He laughs, and Alec finds himself laughing too, a building appearing on the horizon.

From how far they are, if that’s a _house,_ it’s one _big_ house. And as they get closer, Alec soon realises that Jace’s naming of a house is vastly different to Alec’s.

“When you said _house,_ I thought you meant a two bedroom, at _most.”_ Alec’s sure his eyes were deceiving him, because standing right in front of him was a full on _mansion._ The entrance way was packed to the brim with people piling through the door to get inside the fastest. Wherever Alec looked he saw _colour;_ reds; blues; purples; _golds._

There was _gold_ _everywhere; glitter everywhere._

Lights shines out in all directions, music blaring from the speakers so _loudly_ that Alec could hear it clear as day from two blocks away. The typical college party he’d imagined was so much less than this; those stupid red cups; drum and bass; a cramped living room with no space to breathe--

This wasn’t that at all. This was-- breathtaking.

“Who the _hell_ is this guy?” Alec continues to stare in awe, as Jace poured a shot of vodka into the bottle cap and handed it to him. Alec downed the contents, not properly realizing so. He’s transfixed, almost _hypnotised_ from what he sees right in front of him.

Jace takes a swig straight from the bottle, grimacing while he swallowed. He smacked his lips a few times, trying to get rid of the metallic taste. “You mean _Gatsby?”_ He spluttered, wiping his mouth on the back of his jacket sleeve. “No one knows, supposedly.”

No one knew? That was some _bullshit._

This guy, _whoever_ they were, was no real Gatsby. This whole thing, this whole charade, was for attention. Alec was certain, and he hadn’t spent two years studying _The Great Gatsby_ in high school for all of his knowledge to go down the drain—

If this guy was legit, if he wasn’t just calling himself Gatsby for the sake of it—

Alec would be able to find out who it is.

He’d be able to catch him red-handed.

Jace passed Alec the partially empty bottle of vodka, which he took reluctantly. “Right, Mr Lightwood,” Jace slipped off his leather jacket, revealing a plain white top. “Ready for your first freshers party?”

Alec scoured his brain for any excuses to get himself out of this, for anything that would end in him being back at Seraph halls, in his bed, watching Netflix. But his curiosity outweighed all other options.

He shot Jace a stern glance. “Twenty minutes, tops.”

 _“Tops.”_ Jace replied, a smug smile on his face, hands up in surrender. Alec couldn’t help smiling at his flat-mate after that, the alcohol already reaching his system just a tad.

Alec knew, as soon as he stepped inside, that this guy was the real deal. The mansion boomed with music, but not any chart toppers; songs with the distinct _Charleston_ rhythm behind them. It didn’t matter if it was a remastered old classic, or a dubstep remix; _all_ of them were Charleston.

There were tables overflowing with food and drink; there was a bar, fully stocked with booze and three bartenders, pouring too many drinks to remember what the hell they put in each glass.

That was Jace’s first stop, despite the almost full bottle of vodka that Alec still held onto. “Free booze!” He yelled, and Alec sent him the best smile he could. Jace ran off, immediately getting lost in the overbearing wave of college students.

Without thinking, Alec opened up the vodka, pouring it directly into his mouth. He shivered, the metallic taste slithering down his throat and reaching his stomach, the warmth and burning sensation spreading to his limbs, his gut.

And it felt _good._

He fought his way through the hoards of people, on the lookout for any other indicators to who the hell _Gatsby_ actually is. The immense mass of people, the overwhelming brightness of the colours and the feeling of the alcohol inside of him wasn’t going to get him out of focus—

 _Never_.

 

_\---_

“Twenty minutes, tops, yeah?” Jace slurred, smacking Alec on the back. The two of them sat at one of the many tables, covered in confetti, surrounded by _too_ many empty glasses and bottles; the room _spinning._

Alec tilted his head to the side, the weight of his own skull suddenly being all too much for him to handle. Jace shoved him upwards, letting out a drunk chuckle.

“Air,” Alec stuttered out, almost catapulting himself to the floor. He raised his eyebrows at Jace, letting out a breathy laugh, his whole body convulsing along with his giggles. “I’ll— be back soon,” he pointed a relaxed finger at his flatmate, who pointed back.

Alec had lost count at drink number five. The alcohol seemed so easy to consume after he forgot about what the hell he was drinking, after the thirst from sweating on the dance floor _invaded_ his entire body. He turned corner after corner until he reached a more secluded part of the mansion, and fumbled while opening a door to the outside space.

The air is _freezing,_ and it hits his lungs like a wake up call. It’s insanely refreshing, filling his bones with something other than the staleness of sweat and vodka.

He has no idea what time it is, but the moon’s almost full, casting a glow over the mansion garden, which is basically just a _giant field,_ shut off at the sides and back by a wooden fence.

His mind was coming back to him now, in the silence of the garden, the vibrations from the speakers inside the front section of the house. This was not what Alec thought he’d be doing when he’d arrived at Alicante this morning.

“Who— are _you..”_ A voice spoke out of the darkness, and when the fuzziness obscuring Alec’s vision subsided, that’s when he saw him. His skin glittering; literally _glittering_ ; in the subtle night, his eyes reflecting the lights that still shone from within the house. He approached Alec even more, and that’s when he saw his face—

Soft, but mysterious. Sharp, but understanding. His eyes surrounded by a sparkling blue, his lips covered in a dark red, almost black, lipstick. And Alec had no idea why he said it— why after _hours_ of forgetting his initial curiosity, he let it slip—

“Gatsby.” It wasn’t a question. He knew it was him.

Gatsby stared back at him, a smug smile appearing on his dark lips. He brought an elegant hand up to his lips, taking a drag on a menthol cigarette, the smoke surrounding Alec’s face.

“Last I checked, _I_ was Gatsby,” His eyes danced over Alec’s face. “We have a winner.” Alec smirked, his eyes tracing over the outlines of his face, his hair, his clothes—

Everything.

And the butterflies in his stomach come to life once more, but in a good way.

“Most people seem to— _neglect—_ the style I try to create.” Gatsby came even closer to him, his eyes piercing into Alec’s like he’s trying to find something; trying to decipher him as a person.

“I’m not most people.” Alec gulped. Because now he’s standing so close to him that he can smell his cologne.

“ _Evidently,”_ he takes another drag of his cigarette, flicking the butt onto the dark ground, his eyes not leaving Alec’s face. “Magnus.” Alec’s eyebrows furrowed, at least until he saw the hand out in front of him in greeting.

Alec waited a beat, then took his hand. “Alec.”

Magnus’ hand was soft, and maybe it was just the alcohol, but Alec could _feel_ the blood as it pumped through his body. His hands were adorned with rings of silver, his wrists with golden bracelets, his neck with dangling pendants. The party reflected the host, _through and through,_ and Alec’s heart was fully in his throat.

But he didn’t know _why—_

He didn’t know why this man, this Gatsby, or _Magnus,_ was staring at him like he’d just discovered one of his deepest, darkest secrets. He didn’t know why he was looking back at him with a smile he’d never known he could create, wanting him to keep talking.

Even if he did, Alec couldn’t find the breath to form those words. He’s utterly stunning, a finesse only certain strokes of a paintbrush can create. If only he could understand arts like his sister, and maybe then he could truly fathom the beauty in front of him.

It takes a few more seconds, but he realises he’s still holding his hand - but he _can’t_ take his eyes away. They’re so magnetic, almost as if a tether begins to tie itself around Alec’s lungs, pulling it taut and making his words pile up in his throat. Alec’s going to have to speak eventually, because he _shouldn’t_ make a complete mess out of himself in front of, who is no doubt, a popular guy.

“I—,” Alec tries to reach for _anything_ to say, swallowing his own mumbles, “I have to get back.”

“Ah, _yes._ A party is not to be wasted, _hmm?”_

Ah— _fuck._ The way he said that, the way his tongue curls to pronounce his words in such a way, so _unique._

He’s known this man for a mere minute, and Alec can usually brush off conversations and ignore people like a champ, but this guy, _this guy -_ he can’t seem to shake the violent echoes of his heart.

“It was— nice to meet you, Gatsby,” he then realised his mistake, “Magnus? _What—,”_

Something bubbles in his stomach, and he’s not sure if it’s the alcohol brewing inside, or nerves taking flight like a swarm of birds. Alec doesn’t _care_ about things like this, he doesn’t _care_ about completely ignoring someone to find his way out of a conversation with strangers--

But he just - he _can’t_ leave this one.

His feet are glued, his heart fleeting, eyes taking in every blurry detail he can make through the haze of alcohol.

Alec can’t get over how gorgeous he is - how much this man has crumbled almost every exterior he’s got left. The alcohol obviously helps melt those anxious barriers, and the fact that this guy is so _close,_ what is he meant to do?

“You’re still standing here, dear,” and just like that, his voice snaps Alec back into the reality that _yes,_ he’s still holding his hand, and _yes,_ he’s still standing there, “Are you alright?”

“Fine, I’m cool— yeah, _cool.”_ At last he managed a reply.

Magnus’ smirk calms, a smaller smile curving his lips, something that Alec doesn’t notice thanks to his intoxicated mind. He removes his hand, watching Alec part his lips, almost as if he goes to say something else, but pushes them shut again.

Letting his hand hang there in suspense, Alec soon shoves it back into whatever pocket his hand finds first. He snaps a smile Magnus’ way, and quickly stumbles away before he can blabber out how pretty his eyes are, how beautiful his jewellery looks, how sharp his jaw is -

_Breathe, Alec._

Exhaling from shaky lungs, he makes his way back inside, searching for his blonde friend so they can go the _hell_ home. He really doesn’t want to drink anymore, not when he feels something creep up his spine.

_Does he know? He knows._

_Oh god— he knows—_

Alec almost crushes the glass in his hand out of fear, the fear of that guy _knowing._ There’s no possible way he doesn’t, because he looked at him like a piece of art in a gallery, and not in the way you’d look at a five-year-olds drawing of a house.

Feeling the alcohol spill over his hand, Alec curses, actually curses _himself_ as that’ll become sticky in a few seconds. Finding Jace might not be an option, but he doesn’t see himself making it back to halls alive in the state he’s in.

And his mind spirals, the cascade of emotions pouring in and prickling every surface of his skin. He’s home sick, actually, genuinely home sick. The first thing he thinks is to ring Isabelle, to let her sisterly words soothe him so he can breathe easily, but he can’t.

Alec wouldn’t want her to deal with him like this, and as much as Isabelle _wouldn’t_ mind, he can’t give her that burden. He’s old enough now, he’s a student for crying out loud - these are his own problems.

But the _fear,_ it holds his throat, pulls back his shoulders, his stomach lurching as he places the back of his wrist to his lips. He’d vomit, but he’s scared, and the spark of _what if_ sets his body alight.

Jace cheers as he walks through the crowd, but the sound dies down almost comically as he notices Alec in such a state.

He has one hand to the wall, glass by his feet crushed from uncontrollable anxiety, his arm to his lips like any second a dam could open.

“Hey, Alec— you OK?” Jace approaches, cautious, always one step behind him incase Alec becomes as sick as he feels. The walk to Warlock Street had been piss easy; but the stumble back?

Not so much.

Jace and Alec were in the same state; both _completely_ out of it. When you have one six foot something guy and his blonde sidekick, drunk as shit, trying to stammer home in the dark— in a new place they’ve never navigated before—

You need backup.

Jace fishes his phone out of his pocket, fumbling with it for a few seconds as his brain catches up. Alec keeps his eyes closed as he leans against the wall, lips parted as he tries to breathe.

Bringing his phone up to his ear, Jace waits for the enthusiastic voice of their flatmate.

_“Hey! Jace, what’s up bro?”_

For a moment, Jace looks at his phone, unsure if he’s trying to take the piss out of him or not. Perhaps it’s the alcohol, slowly placing it back to his ear as Simon rambles on the other side.

“We need saving, do you have that van you mentioned to come pick us up?”

_“Of course princess, your shining knight is on his way.”_

Alec can’t hear what’s going on, but from the way Jace seems to visibly look _angry,_ it probably isn’t good.

“I am _not_ your princess, now get--”

_“I’m joking! I’m on my way. You’ll forget I ever said that tomorrow morning when you’re dying inside.”_

Jace almost growls, putting the phone down and sending a quick look at Alec, his jaw clenched. A van? _Princess?_ There’s only one person here that Alec knows is _that_ annoying, and has a van—

“Simon?” He lets out, croakily, as Jace’s eyes take in Alec’s slowly developing smile.

“ _Simon._ ” Jace confirms, and in that moment of silence all Alec realises is that he’s grinning so wide, and so is Jace opposite him. Alec’s legs felt like literal _jelly_ — like he’s just finished a 100 metre freestyle race—

And the ground looks so _comfortable._

He deposits himself down, sticking his legs straight out in front of him and leaning back on the palms of his hands, his eyes shooting up to the sky. Jace took the spot next to him, looking up as well.

The sky was spinning, but Alec could hardly notice from the sheer amount on stars that littered it. The only thing that spun—

The moon.

The same moon that he’d looked at an hour or so ago, when Gatsby— _Magnus_ — had appeared. Alec brought his hands to his forehead, pressing down hard upon his skull. This was crazy— _insane_ . He bumps into _one guy_ and immediately his brain goes into overdrive. It would have been comical— if Alec wasn’t the only one who knew the encounter happened.

 _And_ Magnus. _Only they knew._

“Alec—,” Jace chided, his voice interrupting Alec’s thoughts. Jace brought a hand up to grasp Alec’s shoulder, but he caught Jace’s wrist gently, shoving his hand away.

“I’m fine. Don’t worry about it.” Alec jumped up, immediately trying to act sober, when he definitely was _not_. This must be the part of drinking where you overthink about things, that had to be it.

Jace stayed sat, his hands pulling up clumps of grass.

That’s when a van screeched round the corner—

“Hey!” Simon stuck his head out of the driver seat window, blasting the most hipster-ish music Alec’s ever heard. Maia sat in the front seat, her eyes catching Alec, and her face immediately dropping. Simon brought the van to a stop and Maia jumped out quickly, rushing over to the two boys.

“Hey, Alec—,”

“I’m _fine_.” He repeated, charging past Maia and heading to the van, stumbling. Jace placed a reassuring hand on her elbow.

“He’ll be fine tomorrow. I think the party got to him.” Maia furrowed her eyebrows at Alec, as he tries to pull open the back doors of the van. She watched as Simon got out of the driver seat and went to help him. The two of them were arguing like an old fucking _married couple._

“You just _tug_ it—,”

“I _am_ tugging it—,”

“Not the right way, just _let me—_ ,”

“ _No_ , I can do it.”

Alec finally pulled the door open and catapulted himself inside. Simon looked towards Maia and Jace, shrugging his shoulders.

Everyone piled in again, but Jace sat up front with Maia and Simon, the three of them leaving Alec alone in the back. It was clear _something_ was up— but none of them wanted to push him. It’s only been one day, and despite them all being flatmates they really didn’t know that much about each other.

Simon gives Maia the aux cord to the van, and she puts on some good end of the night tracks, as light starts echoing over the sky, brightening up the secluded streets of the West Brooklyn suburbs.

Alec lay in the back of the van, his body slumped against the wall. He wanted this night to end. He wanted to be back home— his _real_ home— with Isabelle and Max, watching a movie and eating some ice cream.

Not with his _parents_ —

Not at _uni_ —

_With them._

All Alec needed was his bed, his nicely decorated room that Izzy had helped with, a swim in that _damn_ pool; the feel of chlorine sticking to his skin. Because right now he didn’t feel like himself, at all. He feels like an imposter in his own body, his own mind.

Alec Lightwood wouldn’t go to a party like that.

Alec Lightwood wouldn’t get so drunk that his brain literally zooms around his skull, making the world spiral into oblivion.

Alec Lightwood wouldn’t flirt with another man—

_Would he?_

The van came to a slow stop, and Alec heard the back doors being tugged open. Jace stood at the end of the van, sticking his hand out. “We’re here, Alec.”

Alec hoisted himself up once more, his head now on _fire_ with pain, his stomach performing summersaults inside his body. He looked at Jace’s hand for a beat, and settled on jumping out of the van on his own, his feet immediately fast walking back to the flat.

“Alec,” Maia said. “ _Alec_.” She shouted, but he didn’t turn back.

He needed to get out of here. He needed to be on his own.

And _by god_ \--

He was never going back to Gatsby’s mansion again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so now you guys have seen magnus, what do you think Alec will do? remember, this is only the start, and these two have a lot of secrets up their sleeves.
> 
> Also! Just to add that I hope there was no confusion surrounding the whole Great Gatsby thing, but as soon as me and Nicole were talking about Magnus' party I just couldn't get it out of my head and I feel like it's a very Magnus thing to do, haha. Anyway luvs--
> 
> see you next time!


	3. Shifting Tides

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Super sorry for how long it took for us to update this. With everything going on in the Shadowhunters fandom right now it was difficult for us to focus on this collab, but we promise we haven't abandoned this beaut fic!
> 
> Just a reminder to keep tweeting, sharing and spreading the message of #SaveShadowhunters. This show means so much to both of us, and a lot of others, and we're not ready to see it go. 
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

There’s a cold shift, something slithering over Alec’s hand. He can’t place what it is, and frankly, he can’t fathom the energy to find out what.

All those tales of sticking your hand out the covers being a danger, that monsters will come and bite your hand, they don’t bother him at all. Perhaps when he was younger, but when his body feels so physically _drained,_ every little gesture becoming what feels like a monumental task, no chance. It’d probably be less painful to be eaten by an imaginary monster right now than deal with this _agonizing_ headache.

It thumps constantly, like boots against concrete, the sound deafening. He frowns, almost like he’s trying to spread the pain so it’s not pinpointed in the center of his brain. Alec’s body must _hate_ him, and rightly so, considering the amount of alcohol he drank at that party last night.

He promised himself he wouldn’t, _Jace_ promised only twenty minutes.

Alec can’t even remember what _fucking happened._

Shapes, colours, blurred memories and the echoes of whatever he touched on his fingertips. This headache wouldn’t be so bad if nice and rewarding memories followed behind, because at least then he may be able to pinpoint who bought the strongest booze known to campus. At least, that’s what it felt like.

Either that, or he’s a lightweight.

And he can hear it now, Simon laughing as he calls it _ironic,_ because _Lightwood_ and _lightweight_ sound so similar. If he starts calling him Alec Lightweight, he swears to every god above this earth, he will never let Simon live it down.

Thinking of that bundle of energy has Alec even more pained, grunting as even trying to open his eyes hurts immensely. He doesn’t know why he’s making this harder for himself by thinking about Simon, but there’s this small part of him that wants those stupid jokes so this pain isn’t so overwhelming.

Liquid confidence? A huge, utter lie. It felt more like liquid _sacrifice_ than anything else.

 _This,_ is why he doesn’t do parties. He can always go and _not_ drink, but being the only sober person there - he may as well not be there at all. Besides, if people are going to leave him alone to get on with his three years of training, he’s got to put up some sort of image.

Broody, grumpy and extreme lightweight wasn’t exactly his plan, but he hopes he made a good few first impressions. And god forbid, he hopes he didn’t make a complete _ass_ out of himself. He feels relieved that even if he did, whoever was there might cover his back, but _technology -_ those phone things are a real pain to prove wrong.

Alec isn’t worrying too much though, he just hopes that his first fresher’s party wasn’t too wild that he can never show his face at one again. Not that he intends to go again, but the offer if always there if he wants to go to one. And when freshers is over, he can head to the usual parties put on every other day.

There’s no excuse to not have a party, at least at university.

He half expects his mother to turn up, to expect Alec to get disartadly drunk on his first night as a student. Well, at least he’s not alone, because some other unlucky guy or gal is just like him - _suffering._

Pushing a hand to his face, he presses hard, running it up to his forehead where the pain strikes the most, where it rings out from a central source.

Why does the thing that’s meant to make a good time _good -_ feel so _shit_ afterwards?

Because he’s begging, _hoping_ this ache goes away so he functions as a normal human being. For Alec, there’s always been one thing to fix most, if not all of his problems.

Swimming.

But there’s a problem, because he doesn’t feel like he can _stand_ let alone _swim._

Alec will have to ask for access to the pool, or hope that his name and being a registered student will get him past the desk.

Perhaps a shower may be a good start for now, and he can work on that later. First task - getting out of bed without causing any more damage. He’d check his phone, but if the brightness is way too much for his tired eyes to handle, he fears he may go blind.

Alec is a morning person, and looking at him now, anyone would call him a liar. Arms stretched out to various places of the bed, his legs dangling off the edge, one knee pushed against the wall that he no doubt banged in his sleep. His hair doesn’t have a style anymore, it’s just simply _hair,_ not even Alec’s usual trick of brushing his hand through it a few times being able to fix it. He worries that the next time he looks in the mirror, he’ll just be a smelly, sweaty, walking corpse.

He feels like one, so he must look the part, too.

Groaning, Alec tries to lift his head, but honestly, he feels he’ll get somewhere if he just rolls off the bed. It’s almost as if little pins prick all over his body, an uncomfortable, sickening heat pooling in his stomach and spreading towards his throat.

He’ll never complain to himself again about how much his calves or shoulders burn after an intense workout, and he’ll never complain about _any_ normal headache he’s bound to have in the future. Nothing compares to this, and as Alec pushes himself up with whatever energy reserve he has left, it feels _worse._

Pushing a hand to his face once more - the one that isn’t keeping him upright - he tries to rub the pain from the side of his face, grunting and gritting his teeth when it doesn’t work. Alec’s going to need some painkillers before he leaves, or simply brave through it. He’s a tough guy, but if he wants to swim, he’s going to have to do _something_ to take the edge off.

Growling about how much he hates himself because of last night won’t magically vanish the hangover, so he forces himself to stand, a shockwave like claws down his back shoving him forward. Pressing both hands to the sides of his head, he groans, making his way to the door and _hoping_ he doesn’t bump into anyone in the kitchen.

When he unpacked, he remembers Isabelle putting the painkillers somewhere in the kitchen, so as he opens his door into the corridor, being met with the smell of breakfast almost makes him vomit anything that remains in his stomach.

Regretting every decision to get out of bed, Alec shuts the door before he gives himself a second chance to walk outside his room. Leaning his head against the door, he tries to remember anything from the night before that will give him a guess as to what happened - but nothing comes back to him. Blurs, shifts of what looks like something shiny, echoes of a voice he feels like he _wants_ to remember.

Walking backwards, he opens his bathroom door instead, taking two stumbled steps inside and turning the dial slowly. Hopefully a cold shower will wake his body up a little, at least as much as he needs to make it out of halls.

Inhaling the morning air, Alec slowly begins to make his way out of halls, down the elevator and out the front doors.

Gym bag hanging off his shoulder, he feels his phone buzz inside his joggers. It takes him a second to get his phone out, but when he does, he sighs at the notification that comes through on his phone.

_Simon Lewis added you to a group chat!_

_Simon Lewis named the group [Pandemonium]_

_SimonLewis: I thought a group chat would be helpful for keeping track of you kids on your wild nights out._

_MaiaRoberts: Alec won’t like this_

_Great._ A form of social interaction he’ll have to deal with. Although, it is quite heartwarming to see Simon care, but Alec will never admit that out loud. He’ll probably just put it on mute, come back now and then to see what awfully funny jokes Simon has made - or when he comes home from training late and wants someone to order a takeaway for him.

Now they’ve all added each other on social media, Alec can’t escape these things, this _social interaction_ he tries to avoid so much. As long as it doesn’t drive him insane, then he’s fine with it. With Jace and Simon though, that might be hard, and Alec can see him only hanging out with Maia. She seems cool, strong willed - someone Alec wouldn’t mind talking to.

_AlecLightwood: i don’t. i’m leaving_

_SimonLewis: Wait! We haven’t got to the cool nickname part yet._

_AlecLightwood: this is on mute now, just so you know_

Putting his phone away, Alec saves whatever reply Simon has for him later, perhaps he’ll need it if his plan to go swimming fails miserably.

He really can’t complain - he got lucky. _Extremely_ lucky with his flatmates.

Now that he’s on his feet, having a few minutes to walk around and breathe some fresh air outside, Alec doesn’t feel _too_ bad. In fact, knowing that he’ll scratch the itch of swimming in a few minutes, at least _hopefully,_ gives him the boost he needs to reach the fitness part of the campus.

It’s only 8:17, so the sun doesn’t beat down on him as much as it will later on. Alec can handle a little weather, and sometimes it does help him work out if he has to push that little bit harder.

One thing's for certain, he can’t push himself today. As much as he wants to, to push himself to the absolute limit, his body isn’t quite cooperating.

His legs still feel a little like jelly, and his head pounds every other second.

He’s _never_ drinking again.

Reaching the building, it stretches far back, and rightly so considering the size of the pool inside. There’s a gym attached next to it, one or two people already in there waking up. Alec would join them, but he doesn’t want to be seen like this as a first impression.

So, as he walks through the automatic doors, Alec hopes that the facilities are just _open,_ because there’s no one at the desk. It’s quiet, quiet enough to hear Alec’s gym bag move as he walks, the squeak of his shoes as he stops walking to check over the times on the wall.

_[ALL GYM FACILITIES OPEN 24/7 TO FITNESS STUDENTS_

_NON-FITNESS STUDENTS MUST BOOK A TIME TO USE FACILITIES_

_THE POOL IS NOT ACCESSIBLE DURING HOURS 21:00 TO 06:00]_

At least it’s open, and he’s a fitness student, _so._

He takes the risk, pushing past a pale, pastel blue door to pick a spot in the changing room.

His phone buzzes, and aa the door closes behind him, he picks it out his pocket. It’s Isabelle, her usual early bird self still caring for Alec miles away:

_[I know you’re already at the pool. Please be careful, don’t work too hard. I miss you already! x]_

A smile curves his lips, focusing on replying before anything else.

_[i promise i’ll go easy on them. will ring you once i’ve done a few laps. love you sis x]_

_[Love you too, big brother. x]_

It’s rather fancy, and the room is _big._ Alec thought their swim team was small, but from the frames that hang on the walls, they’ve had successes, but never a first place.

And there’s something bubbling inside him, the anticipation of those competitions on the horizon, the chance to prove himself to the university and get his name out there. If he makes a mark, scouts will notice, and he’ll be off to train for larger competitions in no time.

That’s the dream, or as much as he allows himself to.

Placing down his gym bag, he pulls down the zip and picks out his usual swimwear. Just black, as per usual with Alec. There’s no need to be fancy or stand out - you do that by _winning._

Alec owns the usual grade for professional swimmers, the form fitting lycra that sits just on the curve of his waist, travelling all the way down to his ankles. He may have to get a new pair, or maybe the team have a selected style if the pictures on the wall give him any clues.

For now, this old pair will do, and with his goggles in one hand and his towel thrown over his shoulder, Alec is ready to go. He shoves his stuff into a random locker towards the entrance to the pool, and already, his body starts to come alive with that familiar smell.

Chlorine, strong to people who first step into a place like this, but for Alec - he might as well call it home. _Home sweet home._ Because this place, no matter where the pool is, _this_ is his thing, _this_ is what he’s good at.

But the pool looks _much_ more incredible in person.

It’s olympic sized, meaning it’s 50ft long, ten lanes wide and a shallow end that isn’t meant for kids. And the stands of seats surrounding it, reaching up to the ceiling as flags of the university team hang from the ceiling rails, directly over the pool.

_ALICANTE SHARKS_

Makes sense, really.

They haven’t won anything, so they always come second or third, which is ironically what a predator would look like chasing his prey.

No one else is swimming, and from how the overhead lights are off, the windows only letting in natural light, not even the maintenance people have turned up yet. Those windows stretch from the floor to the ceiling, so anyone that walks past can see in, but those are at the other end to where Alec stands now.

Alec’s headache still burns, and his legs can’t seem to carry his own weight - but he _needs_ this. Not just to wake himself up, or to keep his fitness in check, no, he needs it mentally.

There’s a fine line between doing it and knowing _how_ to do it. If Alec doesn’t settle into that mindset of this being his chance at what he dreams about, then he might as well get this _awful_ hangover every day until he graduates.

He’s had his fun, even if he can’t remember it, so now it’s down to business.

No _fun,_ no _booze,_ no _parties,_ no flirting with _Gatsby--_

Wait, _did_ he?

 _Fuck,_ it’s all too blurry to make a picture, but the more he wakes up, the more the blur becomes a little less hazy.

Alec can remember the ghost of someone’s hand, the few specs of glitter that shimmer on his hand even after his shower, staring down at his palm as he tries to remember. There was gold, blue, sharp eyes, sharp jaw -

That man, _Gatsby,_ but - what was his _real_ name? It’s lost to him, and Alec can feel something like fear crowd his stomach. He just hopes that he didn’t look like a deer caught in headlights, because the face he can remember, albeit blurred, is absolutely _beautiful._

But he needs to stop. There’s no use in trying to search for anything more, no matter what happened at that party. He’s here to train, not drool after some famed and glorified _party king._

His bare feet become cold against the tiles of the pool area, and Alec fumbles with his goggles to get them untangled. He’ll make a mental note not to trust Jace anymore, especially not when it comes to time or promises. This headache and sickly tar that slithers over his skin is enough to keep him away from alcohol for the next three years.

Maybe he just jinxed himself, and in a few weeks time, he’ll be half naked on someone's couch after doing body shots.

Alec _shivers_ at the thought, clenching his jaw as he lifts his arms to place on his goggles. He keeps them on his forehead until he’s ready to jump in, but even in his state, he remembers the precautions before doing something like this.

He stretches every muscles he can, head side to side, then his arms behind his back, shaking his body loose as he jumps a few times. Wiggling his toes, he tunes his body to ready itself, the gentle thrum of adrenaline pumping through each vein as he approaches the closest start platform, placing his towel on it.

Stepping up, Alec pulls down the goggles, not needing a swimming cap since this was simply to burn some steam. He just hopes that this can be a cure for hangovers as much as anything else, and if not, then at least he’ll be able to scratch that itch he gets on the last turn before the final stretch.

This isn’t a race, and he _promised_ himself he wouldn’t make it one, but there’s that little _kick_ in his chest, the wind up of energy, the taut hold of his legs as he gets ready to spring off the platform - it’s natural. As soon as he looks down, the blue water staring right back at him, still, _waiting_ to move, waiting to be conquered, it would get any swimmer pumped to go, to reach for one more stroke to slam that backboard first.

Parting his lips, Alec breathes in, trying not to think about the darker markers on the pool floor reminding him of someone’s eyeshadow.

Timing himself, he imagines three clicks, one after another.

And as the final sounds, all the energy he holds shockwaves down to his lower legs, _launching_ Alec into a dolphin dive, hands one on top of the other, toes pointed and body stretched as long as it’ll go.

That moment of suspense, time seeming to slow as swimmers hold their breath, ready to submerge for however many lengths they’re going to commit.

The surface _breaks,_ water pushed down and then quickly rushing up in turbulent waves beneath the surface. Alec doesn’t know how long he’s going to swim for, but from how his body feels once the water swallows him, it kickstarts the catalyst inside that wants to push as fast as Alec can move his arms and legs.

It’s _cold,_ goosebumps quick to rise as the sudden shock courses through him. His nerve endings spark, and his lower body kicks into gear as the power from his launch reaches peak, moving like a dolphin would move through the oceans of the world.

Reaching the surface, Alec doesn’t take a breather, keeping his head facing the floor as the water rides up his right arm, lifting it up and over to start his front crawl. This isn’t his stroke, but it’s as good as any for what Alec wants to do. He shifts from the dolphin kick to a front crawl flawlessly, the water parting over his back, through his hair and splashing when coming into contact with his body.

Each ache of those muscles, each scream for his body to stop, Alec pushes through it. His hangover fades behind the curtain of cold water, bubbles forming from each pull of his hand underwater. Alec’s legs kick with force, disturbing the once serene surface, the strength of the ripples fading out as they reach the outer edges of the pool.

His dive from the start platform covered almost half the length of the pool, meaning Alec is at the other end before he takes his next breath.

He’s quick, moving his head right to suck in as much air as his lungs can hold. Then it’s back down, staring at the markings on the pool floor that abruptly end, in which Alec knows what to do next.

Every pool, no matter how big or small, he’s done this enough times to pinpoint the moment to turn, where the length of his legs will connect with the wall, pushing him with substantial force into the next length.

One last pull of his arm, and Alec turntables, feeling the forces confuse themselves over the surface of his body, giving his stomach that uneasy squeeze. But it doesn’t last long, the palms of his feet connecting with the wall, his legs bent so he can _push_ back into the dolphin kick once more.

And like last time, the water moves up over his body, pushed aside by sheer force and power of how he moves through the water. That crystal blue parts for him, temperature becoming numb as Alec’s body focuses on getting blood to every organ that needs it.

There it is, that throbbing, squeezing pain around his chest. His calves burn from how hard he’s going on the first lap, his shoulder blades and biceps stinging from the constant rolls. But there’s silence, other than the splash of water and his own reaches for air, a disturbing silence.

No roars from the crowd, no song stuck in his head, no background noise from other teammates or people at the pool.

It’s just him, and something turns his bones cold, his heart feeling faint.

Alec has to stop _\- he has to stop swimming._

As he reaches where he began, his body stutters, headache returning with a vengeance that spreads down his neck and spine. His palm smacks the wall in front to slow him down to an abrupt stop, almost hitting his head on the side. The water rushes past him, crashing against the wall and reaching over his shoulders, some even splashing onto the tiles surrounding the pool. It carried on when he didn’t, something Alec has rarely dealt with before.

Keeping his head underwater, Alec hopes that the cold will ease the screams in his head, but it doesn’t. It may have made it _worse,_ but he feels this is no hangover plaguing him now. There’s much more, something laying beneath years of burying it beneath this dream.

Cold air sticks to the surface of his skin that remains out of the water, raising his shoulders as the water falls down his back, streaming like small rivers down the contours of his muscles.

His lungs _burn_ for holding his breath so long, and usually he can hold it for a long time. With this hangover, this exhaustion, the prominent empty feeling inside his chest that makes his breathing erratic - he’s not on form, at all.

Resting the palm that stopped him on the edge now, Alec begins to breathe through his mouth, body hungry for oxygen as he lays his forehead against his bicep.

“Your form is off,” Alec almost growls at the voice in his head, clenching his fist that slowly rises out of the water, both arms now leaning in the side, “Spent too much time with your head underwater, and your dolphin kick was sloppy at the beginning.”

_He knows._

Why is his brain so focused on making his life a living _hell_ today--

And then he hears the squeak of a shoe, a heavy breath. Water drains from his ears, and the world starts to cave in around him again, louder than last time.

Someone else is here.

Alec _panics,_ because if this is someone important to the swim team, then he may have just blown his chances. From how he talks about his mistakes, how the guy just simply _knows_ what he did wrong. This was no simple bystander.

Lifting his head from his arm, he spots two trainers a step away from him, one hand on the start platform, a stopwatch in his other hand that hangs around his neck

Alec reads the small embroidered text on his shirt--

_Alicante Sharks Swim Team_

_Fuck._

Now he has to somehow save himself, to try and replace his failure with an excuse, maybe a promise to beat some records. He doesn’t mind pushing himself--

“You OK, kid?” The older man looks at him with concern, looking down to his stopwatch and flicking one eyebrow up, “You’re faster on a 100ft sprint race than most of my first years from last year. Even with the mistakes, there’s potential.”

The guy‘s handsome, but he seems too old to be a student. Warm skin, built well - this guy must mean business. But that smile, it doesn’t scream bossy or that he’s angered Alec is here. Whatever it is, Alec can’t quite put his finger on it.

The reason is because the guy is impressed that someone is here, early, to _train._

He stands up, patting the start platform that echoes out two bangs, reverberating off the walls of the swim hall.

Alec gets the message, sending one of his hands through his hair, pushing back the fringe that’s fallen onto his face. He climbs out, having to force his mouth shut at the strain to pull his own body weight out, and with _this_ headache, it’s no easy task.

“Thanks, Sir.”

The guy looks pretty taken back by how Alec addresses him.

“You’re not one of my sharks, so who are you? One of the freshman?”

Rolling one of his shoulders that feels a little stiff, Alec nods, the gears turning in his head that this guy must be of some importance. Perhaps he’s the captain, or _worse--_

_The coach._

“Thought so,” the man offers a smile, which Alec doesn’t return, “And let me guess, from how you’re squinting and your lack of energy, a freshers party?”

As the guy giggles, Alec can’t help but have a little cheeky smile of his own.

“You could say that. Never again, not at all.”

“Ah, we always have that one friend who drags us there, but considering you have a _hangover_ and boshed out that performance? You did well.”

Finally, Alec smiles a little more. Maybe he hasn’t screwed up his chance just yet.

“I’m Luke Garroway, but if you join my team, you’ll have to call me coach,” Luke offers his hand for Alec to shake, in which Alec has a moment of stage fright, but eventually does shake his hand, “And you _are_ going to join my team, right?”

“That was the plan. Sorry for -- the _lack_ of a decent swim.”

“I saw enough to know you have a drive for it,” Luke lets go of his hand, getting out a book rather aged to write something down, “Say, what’s your name?”

“Alec Lightwood, Sir.”

“No need to call me that, just Luke for now. Then as I said, if you make it, you can call me coach.”

Alec smirks at the challenge, feeling that little kick once again for competition that gets him going.

He’s rummaging through what seems to be a notepad, frowning to himself as he searches for something he needs.

 _“Ah,_ there you are,” Alec frowns at Luke’s somewhat discovery of his name in that book, “Alec Lightwood, goal of professional swimming. Sports Science major, butterfly stroke speciality, multiple local awards and medals to his name… “

“You know me?” Taking a step closer, Alec grabs the towel from his starting platform, removing the goggles from his eyes and letting them hang on his arm. He dries his hair a little as he listens to Luke speak.

“That I do. I’m also the course leader for Sports Science, so I have to go through all the top applicants to see which ones we should accept. I saw your application a year ago since you filed for a gap year. It’s nice to finally have you at Alicante, Lightwood.”

For a moment, Alec smiles, huffing to himself as he looks away.

Here he is thinking he messed up, blew his chances - yet Luke is the one that’s been waiting for him to turn up. Alec’s gap year was simply so he could compete in small competitions for another year, build his collection and then head into university with a decorated shelf already.

Not that he likes trophies, but the more he has, the more his dream becomes closer, easier to take hold of and control. That’s why Alec never goes to team parties, never bathes in the glory for too long - a big ego will make him sink, and if it gets to his head, he won’t feel the need to keep pushing himself. The drive for more, to be _better,_ it’ll vanish.

For Luke to notice Alec’s drive even when he’s hungover, that may have saved him. Even if Luke knows who he is, his record, his titles, he’s judging him as every other fresher.

That, to Alec, means everything.

An equal start line, a real race to the finish.

It’s the journey to get there that’s going to be difficult, in _and_ out of the water.

“Thanks, Luke.” He nods towards him, throwing his towel over his shoulder again.

“Don’t thank me yet. I’m not as nice as I am now when qualifying season starts,” Luke begins to walk back towards the doors at the back, and there must be more rooms there for members of the team, “And for that hangover? Betty’s pizza place just to the left of the football field, there’s a pizza called _hangover fix.”_

Alec thinks he’s joking, but the way he smiles is like he’s seen Alec’s reaction a thousand times before. He laughs, shaking his head as he finally turns to face the doors and walk ahead, leaving Alec standing by the pool and dreaming about how good a pizza sounds right now.

He _is_ a foodie after all.

Looking back at the pool, the water is close to being calm again already. For the first time in a while, what he felt during those few seconds before he stopped himself, it scares him. Getting whipped up in thoughts like that is dangerous.

He needs to stay away from parties.

No more mysteries, no more curious ventures to mansions and expensive booze.

Get up, train, eat a substantial amount of junk food and healthy food, gym, bed - and repeat until he graduates. That’s the cycle he’s followed for the twenty years he’s been alive, and it’s worked for him so far.

Why not continue that?

Just because of this new stage in his life, his surroundings, the people he’s with; it doesn’t mean it should change his regular routine in the slightest--

It doesn’t mean he’ll change who he is.

Alec plods back to the locker room, scratching the back of his neck with his towel. Luke was a character; that’s for certain. But Alec also knows he’d be a good coach, a tough one. It’s a challenge that excites him, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to hype up his reputation here as a swimmer. Alicante was famous for art programs; its football team and other sports, but swimming? Not so much. At least not for many years.

Alec wanted to change that. He _would_ change that.

He couldn’t stop himself from smiling when he opened up his locker, and despite his raging headache when he’d woken up, his head felt just fine now. That swim was definitely needed, even despite the scare towards the end. Chlorine sticks to his skin now, giving that usual nose turn smell for people who aren’t so used to it.

Alec was drying his hands clumsily when he sees a text from an unknown number, eyebrows furrowing so low he almost looks angry. But he isn’t--

Alec Lightwood was curious, excited--

Breathless.

Because those two words on that screen almost made his heart stop completely--

_[Hello, stranger.]_

Alec rushed himself then, pulling his joggers over his still wet skin, shoving his shirt over his sodden head. Catapulting his bag over his shoulder, Alec slams the locker shut, pacing out of the building almost immediately.

He didn’t make it back to his halls, but instead rounded the corner of the sports centre and leaned himself against the back wall, his heart pounding in his chest.

 _Hello, stranger?_ It couldn’t really be him, could it? How would he be able to get Alec’s number?

_Oh--_

Was Alec really so drunk that he ended up giving his number to Gatsby yesterday? If that’s the case, he must have been utterly _fucked._

He fumbles with his phone, eyes scanning the text message over and over again, trying to find a loophole for this situation. Because shit-- this guy-- this _Magnus_ \--

He _knew_ . He _obviously_ knew.

Alec hasn’t even said it to himself inside his head, but it’s obvious that from his drunk state last night that Magnus got _those vibes_. From the way Alec had eyed him up, stared at his hair, his eyes, held his hand--

He _screamed_ it.

A few drops of water fall on Alec’s phone screen, and he rubs them away quickly, combing his fingers through his hair to get it off his face. His thumbs hesitantly start typing out a reply--

[ _Who is this?_ ]

Gatsby? Magnus? Someone else?

Those three little typing dots engrave themselves into Alec’s brain, and his heart loses control again. This is the most nerve-wracking experience Alec can date-- it’s almost pathetic.

Alec’s eyes widen as his phone lit up once more.

[ _Gatsby_.]

_Fuck._

Alec’s nostrils flare, eyes welling up in fear. This can’t be happening. This can’t be _real._ He knows, and he has his number. It’s official-- this is the worst day of Alexander Lightwood’s life. Suddenly, it’s becoming difficult to breathe, grappling for his bag on the floor, slipping it over his shoulder once more, urging his feet to move, praying that his legs won’t topple him over.

Numbness cascades up Alec’s body like a wildfire; his brain screaming at him.

Someone _knew_. And that someone managed to get Alec’s number.

That someone could let it slip anytime--

The thought alone makes Alec want to vomit.

He turns the corner sharply, his body not registering that he’s bombarded straight into another person, smacking them backwards. “Hey!” the person yelled, but Alec’s eyes can’t focus on anything in front of him. The world becomes a blur, the sky a heavy grey.

“Hey-- Alec--,” His ears hear that, a name, and it _echoes._ Hands fall onto his shoulders, pressing him to the floor slowly, “Breathe-- just _breathe.”_

 

The voice is reassuring, familiar. And when Alec actually looks forward, trying his hardest to make his eyes fucking _work,_ that’s when the blonde hair, blue eyed boy in front of him comes into view. Jace looks beyond concerned, jaw clenched and his mouth low.

“Hey,” Alec said, reality hitting him in the face.

“You’re hyperventilating, Alec. Just _breathe._ ”

Alec clamps his eyes shut, heart pounding in his ears. He can feel Jace’s hand squeeze his shoulder, sensing that his friend is beyond worried.

“Sorry--,” Alec stuttered out, placing his hand over his erratic heart. “I guess I just-- trained too hard.” Jace let out a relieved breath when Alec straightened out his back and sat up against the sports centre wall. Alec wiped a bead of sweat from his brow, staring at his flatmate. Jace smacked his shoulder a little, sending him a concerned smile.

“Maybe don’t train after you’ve drank your bodyweight in Gatsby’s cocktails.” Alec’s eyes shot open once more at the mention of his name. Maybe this wasn’t so bad-- Alec hasn’t got the sense that Magnus would spread things.

He’d got the impression that he was--

_One hell of a guy._

Would he really tell the world about Alec Lightwood’s secret?

Either way, Alec couldn’t hide this-- he had to let it out before his chest burst completely. And Jace was right there-- his flatmate-- his _friend._

“Speaking of Gatsby,” Alec began, his fear starting to disappear about this whole situation. He fiddled with his phone in his hand, sending Jace a nervous smirk. “I found him last night, and he somehow got my number this morning.” Alec showed Jace the text.

He’d expected him to be intrigued, or interested--

But he was _amused._

Jace’s face exploded into a boyish grin as he tried to keep his giggles inside. The next thing Alec knew, Jace’s phone was in his face, showing the exact same conversation, but reversed.

Jace was Gatsby-- Jace was _fake_ Gatsby--

 _Jace was impersonating Gatsby as a joke_. Alec tried not to _crumble._

“Just a little fun-- when Simon set up our flat group chat I saw I didn’t have your number.” Alec’s mind was pelting him with stupidity bullets. “You mentioned Gatsby to me last night, how you were excited to find him. It was just supposed to be a joke.”

Alec was silent for a second, his face blank. Jace popped his phone back in his pocket, and as Alec’s eyes came back into focus he shot him a small smile.

“It was funny.” He said, and Jace didn’t seem to understand the fact that Alec was lying through his very teeth.

Jace sent Alec another concerned but relieved smile, and took a step back. “Anyway, I better get going.” Jace took a few more steps, sending Alec a small wave. “Oh-- and by the way. Don’t message the chat if you need me. I’ve already muted it.” Alec couldn’t stop himself from smirking at that, because he’d done the exact same thing.

“Noted,” Alec added, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Pandemonium. Why’d he name it _Pandemonium_?”

Jace shrugged, letting out a chuckle.

“No clue. It’s _Simon_.”

“Fair enough.” Alec said, his body finally beginning to relax now. Jace waved once more, and Alec waved back. He watched Jace run off and turn the corner, letting out the biggest sigh of his damn life, clutching at his chest once more, just to make sure he wasn’t going to have another goddamn panic attack.

The stroll back to halls was uneventful, deciding against the pizza. The sun shone down on Alec’s head, drying his hair and warming his still slightly hungover body. His mind wandered, but ultimately always lead back to one thing--

Magnus Bane. Magnus _fucking_ Bane.

It was so stupid-- it was beyond cliche. Boy meets boy at a college party; boy falls in--

“ _No_.” Alec, told himself, shaking his head. He’s close to giving himself a slap in the face after thinking that. It was nothing, anyway. Alec wouldn’t be attending anymore of Gatsby’s parties-- _ever_. He’d never see Magnus Bane again, not after this year at least, when Magnus would graduate.

Alec stomps up the steps outside his halls, his eyes not in focus of what’s in front of him, not fully registering the massive _deja vu_ he’s sensing, bumping into yet another person--

“Alexander?” A voice hits Alec’s ears, a voice coming from right in front of him.

He had to back up, his legs almost tripping back down the steps he’s just walked up, but not quite. And when his eyes focused, when his eyes hit his--

_It’s worse than any panic attack._

“I’d know that face anywhere, especially after last night.”

Alec gulps, his eyes tracing the pristine face in front of his own, heart ceasing to beat inside his already exhausted and poisoned body, his nose recognising that same perfume, the sun shining upon his copious amounts of jewellery, casting a shimmer across Alec’s face.

Gatsby-- _Magnus Bane--_

Was peering up at Alec once more--

His lips curled in a playful smirk--

His eyes gleaming like magic.

  



	4. Unexpected Alliance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, it's Beth! YES, WE'RE ALIVE.
> 
> Ok, this past a month has been... interesting. I personally haven't been writing; I've been in one of the worst writer's block funks of my life, which means that welp... no update for a long time. 
> 
> BUT
> 
> We're back!! My inspiration has come back tenfold with all these new au ideas on Twitter, and the amount of love I've been receiving on my au's sparked that fun flare for writing back into my very soul. Nicole has been wanting to write this fic for so long, and we did discuss me becoming a beta instead of a co-writer, but in the end it felt very odd for us both not to be working on this fic properly together. So we're finally here! Another chapter down, however many more to go, and I'm very excited to be back in a writing mood.  
> I'm off interrailing for three and half weeks tomorrow morning, which means I'll have so much time to think about my creativity, do some more writing, read some more books, and just generally have a RELAXING ASS TIME. 
> 
> Anyway, I really hope you guys enjoy this chapter. Nicole and I have both said it's our favourite so far. 
> 
> Enjoy x #fitymiFic

**** It's the same after every party—

The cleaners would arrive, and Magnus would go about his normal morning business. A trip to the coffee pot, or three, overseeing the clean up after another legendary party for the new students.

It was the same every year; the freshman would tear apart his mansion like they owned the place, they’d drink far too much for their stomachs to take, and end up heading home around 1am, leaving nothing but a broken glass or two, and the smell of their vomit on the dance floor.

Despite the grossness, there was always an element that Magnus adored about putting on these weekly raves—

Meeting new people; introducing them into Alicante life; discovering the people to watch out for over the year.

Last night, there was only one person that stuck out to him—

That 6’3 fresh face with a head full of ruffled black hair. From first glance, on the dance floor, Magnus had expected him to be like any other jock, but out back in that moonlight, he’d proved himself to be something incredibly different;

Something that not even Magnus could pin down, even after his two years at this university. 

The way he’d looked at him, his eyes working overboard inside his skull, his hands almost shaking when he took his hand in his. 

To say he looked like a puppy wasn’t an exaggeration. 

The one question Magnus got from everyone was how the hell he could afford to do Gatsby’s parties every Friday night, and he’d answer the same way every time—

“Budgeting, and whole lot of blackmail.” 

He was lying of course, because it had taken him a good six months in his first year to figure out how he’d be able to do this weekly. 

Alcohol was easy to come by when you’re buying in bulk, especially when his housemate Ragnor has his name in the goodbooks of the local liquor store. Decorations are all made and put up by his other housemate Catarina, and the bar staff came easily, with the promise that tips would be tenfold; which they always are when you have drunk college students with a new student loan to dish out. 

After those first six months, Gatsby’s party was happening every Friday without fail, and Magnus prided himself on this. He hadn’t missed a Friday in over a year and a half of term time.

His love of music, dance and drinking had sparked something in him from his very first college party, and now here he is, overseeing a clean up operation for the umpteenth time, sipping on his coffee and brainstorming which outfit to wear.

“Another successful freshman night, then.” Ragnor spoke, entering the kitchen in his dressing gown. Magnus poured him a coffee and handed it to him. Ragnor took the largest gulp imaginable, sighing after it slid down his throat.

“The last successful freshman night.” Magnus’ face dropped into something more sombre, his fingers tapping on his mug.

This was his final year at Alicante. This time next year, he’d be some place else, possibly travelling the world, putting on parties for other people;

Living the rest of his life— whatever that life entailed.

It’s true he has no idea what his future holds. His course on Product Design has been a pipe dream from the time he turned sixteen, and uni hadn’t simply provided him with the right to party—

It’s given him questions. Most of them remaining unanswered, still. 

“It’s been a good three years.” Ragnor adds, downing the rest of his coffee. Magnus has seen him down much worse over the time of them living together, but it isn’t a lie that Ragnor is truly a party king; well, when it involves attending a party, not planning one. 

“Yeah,” Magnus said, not fully registering what he’s saying. His mind wandering into unknown territory, his future dangling on the end of a thread. It was so easy to think you’d be able to get a job straight out of university, but the harsh reality is that he’s uncertain. He knows one thing for certain, though—

He wouldn’t be moving back home after Alicante. 

His parents aren’t the nicest of people to be around these days, especially when his mom lives halfway across the state, his stepdad planted somewhere on the other side of the entire country. 

Still married;

But living apart. 

His real dad? Gone. Off the grid. He’d left Magnus and his mom the day after Magnus’ fifth birthday. And then his mom had met his stepdad, who for two years was all they could’ve asked for, but one day snapped into something utterly different. 

It wasn’t something Magnus wanted to be involved in anymore. His summers were the worst time of his uni life, with him opting to stay at friends’ houses whenever he could, crashing on couches, trying desperately to pursue his dreams on the sidelines of whatever his life actually is. 

Gatsby wasn’t simply a name to go by when he put on his decadent nights—

It’s his  _ escape.  _

In Gatsby’s life, there was nothing but fun. Gold glitter floating from the ceilings, the smothering but freeing feeling of smoke wrapped around his body in the moonlight, the opportunity of meeting a person that could make his reality disappear. 

And that’s all coming to an end in nine months time. 

It’s a reality that hits Magnus straight in his stomach, pushing him backwards into the dark unknown of his home life, making him realise he will probably never have another time like his life at Alicante. 

“Magnus,” Ragnor spoke, his voice soft. He places his mug down on the kitchen island, reaching to put a gentle hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. I know you overthink things when your family infiltrates your thoughts.” 

He shoots Magnus a half smile, sending him a message telepathically that everything will be fine. 

Magnus loosens under Ragnor’s grip, thankful that his friend actually gets it. Not many people understand Magnus’ family life, Ragnor is one of the few, alongside Catarina. 

“Yeah,” Magnus repeats, trying to push his problems to the back of his mind. He shoots Ragnor a smile. “Anyway— errands to run. People to see.” That’s his code for ‘this conversation is over’ and Ragnor understood immediately, retracting his warm grasp. 

Magnus ascends the stairs, his thoughts wandering back to what he would wear for the day. His mind won’t stop landing on the colour blue, for some reason, and when he opens his vast closet, one outfit already sticks out to him.

He showers; for a long time; letting his sad thoughts drown and his happy ones prevail. Magnus loves showers, he always has. At home, having a shower meant he wasn’t disturbed. It meant he could hide under the noise of the running water. But when that water stopped— 

His stepfather’s yells, his mother’s screams, both going relentlessly at each other. 

That was before his stepdad moved out, a month before Magnus was back at Alicante for his third and final year. Now, his mother’s house is practically silent.

And he’s never ventured to his stepfather’s new residence.

He shuffled through his wardrobe, his eyes hitting the outfit that immediately came to mind this morning-- his short sleeved, blue, button up shirt and straight leg brown chinos. He’d match it all together with his dark brown brogues. It seemed to fit together perfectly and matched his partially blue dyed hair that he’d done specially for the freshman party. Like all his other hair colours, it’s semi-permanent, and would fade soon enough. 

A quick trip to his make up drawer, some product through his hair and a spritz of his favourite cologne and Magnus was ready for whatever his day held. 

He’d promised Catarina that he’d stop by her stall at the welcome fair. Catarina hosts an art club, specialising in revamping furniture and other decorative stuff. Magnus doesn’t exactly approve of clubs, but that won’t stop him from giving Cat his support. 

Campus is the same every year during the freshers fair and sign up days-- littered with freshman, bumbling around their new home for the next however many years. They glance at the stalls for debate club, Amnesty International, film club, but ultimately only settle for one, usually. 

Either that, or they settle for nothing. 

Magnus falls into that category. 

Despite the scene at the fair not being his favourite, the walk to the centre of campus is always something that makes him happy, especially the day after a party. It’s like the air is cleaner, more fresh as he inhales it into his lungs. The New York sun is his favourite, no matter where he is in the state, yet somehow Alicante has this way of making it seem even better, trotting his way across the quad and passing some of the accommodation buildings. 

Seraph halls is just up ahead; that’s where he’d stayed in his first year, and he’d almost forgotten his annual tradition of going back there to check up on his old room. Deviating from his set course, Magnus fast walks up to the looming building that is Seraph Halls, and practically skips down the corridor to his old room.

By the sound, the aura, and the fact that his nose just inhaled the biggest waft of pot; he now knows that some first year stoner occupies his old living space. It isn’t that bad though, considering the guy who lived here last year was caught up in the infamous ‘Halloween night scandal’ last year. It had spread around the university like wildfire, and was a story in which a boy and his friends were found half asleep,  _ and _ fully naked on the golf course that sat just down the road from the Uni on the morning after Halloween night. 

That had been funny to read about the next day in the Alicante Post. 

Swivelling on his heels, Magnus heads back out of the building, ready to see Catarina at the fair--

And that’s when his nose catches another scent. 

The smell of fresh chlorine. 

It makes his nostrils flare involuntarily, and his body step back for just a second. That’s when he’s bombarded into, his centre of gravity shifting to make sure he doesn’t drop to the floor. And that smell-- that same smell-- is even stronger now. 

That’s when he dips his eyebrows, his eyes tracing the outline of the boy in front of him, whose face is looking down at his feet, still recovering from stampeding straight into Magnus. 

He knows that choppy hairstyle, even if it’s damp and messy. He knows those broad shoulders, no matter how brief their previous encounter had been, not ten hours before. He can’t stop his lips from sending out a smirk.

“Alexander?” 

Out of everyone, Alec did not expect himself to bump into  _ Gatsby _ of all people. He doesn’t even know why he calls him Gatsby, he  _ knows  _ his real name, and maybe that’s his way of coping with it-- this whole  _ I must avoid parties at all costs  _ idea that’s only been active for a few hours. Alec believes if he stays away from the people who  _ organise  _ these alcoholic gatherings, then he can avoid the temptation outright. It’s not like hangovers are tempting,  _ god no,  _ but the idea of letting loose and forgetting about the world after tipping back a few, that’s what makes him want to go.

Everyone has their demons.

“Nerves got your tongue?”

“Huh?” It’s only then Alec realises he’s been staying silent, even after Magnus called his name, “Ah, sorry. I was on another planet then, and--,” Alec scratches the back of his neck, adjusting the bag on his shoulder, “Sorry for bumping into you, as well.”

“None taken,” It  _ really  _ annoys Alec how sweet Magnus’ smile is, “But be happy it was me and not some ego centric third year.”

“Oh, yeah,” Alec smiles back, it lasts a mere second, “‘Guess you could say that.”

They both stand there, looking a little lost, since Alec doesn’t move and Magnus is quite happy watching Alec’s little nose twitch as he thinks.

“So… what are you doing here? I thought third years had their accommodation on the other side of campus,” unless, he stayed here for  _ other reasons.  _ That has Alec cringing, stuttering his words out as the images crowd his head, “But uh, that’s  _ none _ of my business.”

“Curiosity killed the cat, and thankfully, we aren’t cats,” Magnus cocks his head to the side, pointing to the building behind him with his thumb, “I stayed here during my first year. It’s nice to come back and remember the old days of late nights and regrets of starting University in the first place.”

“Ah, I know that feeling.”

“On your first day?” Magnus laughs, and Alec finds himself smiling while he does, “I think that’s the hangover talking.”

“Wow, you got me.” Shrugging his shoulders, Alec adjusts his bag again, and the awkward silence folds over them once more. 

Thankfully this time, it’s Magnus turn to speak up. “What’s on the agenda today for a freshman like you?”

Alec begins to wonder why he even wants to know, but like Magnus said just now, it’s good for him to remember the old days, when it was a little easier and graduation isn’t looming over him.

“Club sign ups are today. Gonna’ head over in a few.”

_ “Oh! _ Why don’t I give you a tour? I’m meeting my friend at the fair so it saves you getting lost when classes actually start, I can show you around on the way there.” He seems rather chirpy to offer, but his posture reels back to something more confident than excited, “That’s if-- you want to?”

“You… want to give me a tour?” Alec can’t believe he’s saying that himself, almost laughing at the comedic value.

Magnus doesn’t need to show him anywhere, since Alec will probably only visit a maximum of three places - that being the sports building, his lecture hall right next to it, and halls where he’s going to be staying for the next three years.

So, he’s practically already been where he needs to go. 

A little knowledge won’t hurt, and the only thing keeping him standing there is Magnus’ smile, and how he seems to naturally glow -

“Well, Alec, are you saying yes or no?”

After all, Magnus doesn’t know what his course is, and taking a guess from his physique would be hypocritical.  _ However,  _ that doesn’t stop him from wondering if he  _ is. _

“I have sign ups in…” Alec briefly goes to check his watch, but realises he didn’t put it on this morning, making him look back to Magnus, “Uh-”

“I can take you?” He doesn’t sound eager, but Alec thanks whatever heaven above that Magnus saves him from the embarrassment of looking for his invisible watch.

Why is he even asking anyway? Surely he has parties to plan, or class to attend. Alec isn’t sure if second and third years have an easy week like first years do, and Alec  _ knows  _ he isn’t a first year.

One, he’s well known here.

Two, he’s way too good at this social thing to be a fresher, no matter the confidence, everyone is a nervous wreck in some way or another in their first week.

And third? Magnus wants to take him on a tour of the campus. No first year would do that. They would barely know the place no matter how many open days or maps they’ve studied of the campus.

Before he can say no, before his logical side takes over that he should go back to training - or  _ something  _ that doesn’t involve socialising--

He says, “Sure.”

And the brilliant smile that follows his words, Alec would say that was worth agreeing on its own.

Drunk or not, there’s no denying that the  _ holy shit, he’s gorgeous  _ thought stumbling over in Alec’s brain wasn’t just the alcohol. He’s legitimately beautiful. 

A silence stirs between them, and when Alec feels his lips twitch to try and smile, he stops himself. Thank god he  _ isn’t  _ drunk, or he could have been staring a lot longer than three seconds.

_ Follow what you said, Lightwood. No Gatsby, no Magnus. _

_ “So…” _ Alec adjusts the bag on his shoulder, thumb moving along the strap as he now holds it over his chest, “Are you going to show me around? Or is this some third year prank I’m not getting.”

Act normal, pretend like the stare was nothing, that it’s simply just Alec waiting for Magnus to do something.

_ Perfect, good. This is good. _

_ This is normal. _

That’s when he sees Magnus lifting his gaze from his neck, catching on to something he can  _ just about  _ see. “Oh,” he laughs, light and short, “Apologies, I was thinking of where to go first. The university is quite large, as you probably know.”

_ Of course he knows that,  _ Magnus thinks, hiding his own arguments behind an award winning smile.

“This way, then.” Magnus gestures with his hand out in front, waiting for Alec to look interested in walking before he goes ahead himself.

Alec gives a curt nod, but cuts his first step short, “Oh, I should probably go and get changed first.”

“I’m sure the campus won’t mind sweatpants and a hoodie. Casual comfort.” it doesn’t sit well with Alec, who just scrunches his nose, shaking his head slightly.

“Not the clothes, the smell.” Alec parts his lips to say where it’s from, but he doesn’t really need to spare Magnus that detail. He can probably smell the chlorine anyway when the breeze rolls past them.

Magnus does notice, and he doesn’t want to comment. In fact, he’s been trying to ignore it this whole time, pushing the thought of it to the back of his mind. 

“Ah, well,” now, Magnus gestures to the halls accommodation instead of the path he did before, “I don’t mind waiting.”

“You really don’t have to wait.” Alec proposes, already walking to the stairs so if the sudden change of plan for Magnus appears, he doesn’t have to show a face of apology. It’s not his fault Magnus’ smile is so good at getting him to talk, to agree with going on a tour with him.

This could be the most _popular guy_ on campus, as much as Alec _hates_ those labels. Jocks, the main squad of _bitches,_ the nerds, the bookworms - he can’t deal with it. Just because Alec likes sports a lot doesn’t mean he needs a label and a dedicated table at lunch, and he swears he hates that trope the most in movies. 

Why focus on being social, flaunting how many people you’re crowding around a table when there’s food right in front of you? Alec finds it mad.

Magnus watches him climb the steps, two at a time thanks to those long legs. Even if he was hammered last night, he seems to be recovering well, or Alec’s hiding it well. Probably the latter, since Magnus is well aware of how strong some of those drinks are. If Alec is an athlete, and a smart one, he won’t know a glass of water from vodka. That’s exaggerating a little, but it serves his point anyway. 

So, he’s either able to handle his liquor, or Alec knows how to hide pain. 

Why does that second thought make Magnus frown so much, though? He barely knows the guy, but he’s intrigued. That’s enough to want to know,  _ right? _

Five minutes later, Alec is at the steps again, flashing Magnus a small smile as their eyes meet. Magnus was scrolling through twitter and his messages while waiting, not really thinking about Alec after the first minute of debating silly thoughts that didn’t concern him.

“Sorry, I had to wash my hair too.” he adjusts his hands in his jacket pockets, clearing his throat as Magnus stands, previously leaning on the brick wall that comes up just to his waist.

“No problem. I’m guessing you want to make a good impression?” 

Alec isn’t sure what to make of that, not looking at him until they set off in the direction Magnus gestured to before.

Changed, Alec now wears black jeans, a white short sleeved shirt with a navy, cotton jacket over the top. His hair is a little wet in places, seeming like he rushed to get back, which makes something shift in Magnus’ state of mind about Alec. It’s subtle, and it’s not important, but Magnus feels it all the same.

“I don’t think looks matter, just performance.” Alec replies, no hint of play in his voice, but Magnus still picks up on the word choice.

_ “Very  _ interesting, Alec,” as soon as Alec hears the dip in tone, he looks at Magnus, frowning a little, “I’m sure your performance is satisfactory to join any club.”

The swimmer scoffs, not really understanding his subtle innuendo. That disappoints Magnus, greatly. “No need to brag, but I’m actually pretty good.”

“I’m sure you are.” Magnus throws a wink his way, and that confuses Alec even  _ more. _

_ Why is he winking at me about that?  _ Surely Magnus would act reserved about his confidence, or at least question why he thinks that - but he just  _ agrees? _

“Uh,” Alec removes a hand from his jacket pocket, scratching the back of his neck, scrunching his face as he does so, “What about you? If you don’t mind me asking.”

They turn their first corner, away from the center of the campus and to the outskirts where most small course buildings situate themselves. 

“My course? Hobby? My performance level?” 

_ Performance level? Is he making fun of me?  _ Alec frowns even more, and Magnus isn’t sure if he actually likes Alec looking a little angry or if he prefers that soft smile he sent his way down the steps. “The first two, I guess.” 

“A magician does not reveal his secrets,” he gestures to the air, and Alec finds himself watching the curl of his fingers for a moment, snapping his attention back to Magnus when he continues talking, “and I barely know you. I’m here to offer a tour, not twenty questions.”

“Oh.”

Alec pushes his lips together, turning his attention to the buildings ahead, a little annoyed that his attempt at being social didn’t work. All he asked about were his interests, but then again - didn’t Alec say he wouldn’t involve himself in this man’s life?

He hosts parties, no doubt the most troublesome student member of the campus, and from the way he moves and dresses,  _ way too much  _ confidence for Alec to feel comfortable. Not in an asshole sense, that he hates what he wears or how he presents himself, not at all - Alec just doesn’t see himself and Magnus as friends, they’d clash like they are now in the most subtle of ways.

And somewhere deep down, he wishes he was wrong.

Because despite this guy being the host of the freshers party that made him feel like death incarnate, Magnus seems positive about life. He doesn’t brag about his party, and as a matter of fact he didn’t even mention it once through the tour.

He was precise, showing him important buildings, even a few Alec didn’t know existed. Magnus talked about the village around fifteen miles down the road from the campus entrance, useful if he wants to get some fresh air and skip back a century in building decor. There were pubs, apparently, and his inner foodie yearned for some pub food, not having any decent since his last trip to the UK.

One thing Alec did notice, is that he skipped the sports facilities completely. Perhaps he thought Alec knew them already, but he hasn’t even told him he  _ is  _ taking a sports course, let alone wanting to try out for the swim team. He did smell of chlorine when he bumped into him, and he doubts Magnus wouldn’t be smart enough to put two and two together. A gym bag, chlorine sticking to his skin, damp hair, it was rather obvious.

Luke didn’t lie about the pizza place, and he found himself smiling at the dubbed  _ hangover pizza  _ Luke had spoken so highly of. Maybe next time, as Magnus guided him towards more parts of the campus.

Thank the angels he has good legs, because walking around this insanely large campus would have made his legs jelly,  _ again. _ Fresh air does his hangover well, and it’s slowly becoming a nice, sunny day as the campus wakes up.

There hasn’t been much talk outside of the campus, nor smiles, nor laughs. A to B as efficiently as possible, just like Magnus said he would.

_ A tour, not twenty questions. _

Usually, people would be taking this golden opportunity on their first day to get that  _ one  _ friend to get you through the first few weeks, but Alec finds himself not feeling that with Magnus.

If he’s being honest, it’s almost as if Magnus is doing this out of Alec’s pity, or to make himself look good. And there’s a twinge of discomfort in his stomach when they turn what seems to be last corner of Magnus’ tour, silence enveloping them as Alec listens to the  _ pat pat pat  _ of their synchronised feet.

“I’d put on a fancy satnav voice to say you’ve arrived at your destination, but there’s nothing humorous about clubs.”

Alec halts beside Magnus as they arrive, already feeling overwhelmed by the number of tables and people. It looks like a market, banners moving in the breeze as handpainted club signs are nailed haphazardly to the front of their tables.

“You’re not in one?” He wouldn’t call them clubs, at least not the swimming team, but Alec can see where Magnus is coming from.

These clubs divide people into those cliche college movie groups, and being reminded of that makes Alec twitch his nose.

“No,” Magnus is blunt, fiddling with a ring on his right finger, Alec not noticing, too distracted by the abundance of people, “Waste of time and energy in my opinion. But I guess, saying that, I lead my own parties and events.”

“Everyone has their thing.” mumbles Alec, taking a step forward, and to his surprise Magnus follows.

“Hmm,” Magnus cocks his head to the side, pursing his lips for a moment as he follows what Alec looks at, “indeed we do.”

Alec hadn’t expected Magnus to be like this at all. Sure, he was mysterious and reserved when Alec had first bumped into him, but he still seemed like he’d been somewhat interested in Alec himself. It was as if something had changed within him as soon as he’d found out that Alec wanted in on the swim team. 

Despite Magnus’ obvious dislike of clubs, he nevertheless took Alec right into the middle of the fair, fishing his way around freshman and leading him straight to the sports club sign up tables. Swimming sat in the centre, and was surrounded by other teams-- badminton, lacrosse, tennis, and obviously football. 

Alec’s heart pounded in his chest, his anxiety creeping back. He has no reason to be nervous; he’s seriously overreacting. He has faith in his swimming-- perhaps too much-- and he knows that with his work ethic, he’ll be able to get to the top of the swimming team ladder. He won’t settle for anything less than Captain when he gets to his third year, and that means no slacking for the next two years he’s on campus, or off. Alec bounds up to the swimming table and grabs a pen, about to scrawl his name down--

“Whoa, there. Easy now.” The pen is immediately tugged from his hand, and when Alec looks up, the distinct colours of the Alicante football team are pressed right into his vision. The boy stands in front of him, his hair dark swooped casually atop his head. His eyes are large, and are piercing right through Alec, as if he were on some kind of witness stand. 

But even though Alec’s shocked from such an abrupt meeting, he also immediately knows that this isn’t someone he wants to be around for more than two minutes at a time. 

“A swimmer, huh? Nah, I can see you as a stable linebacker.” 

Alec has to scoff at this guy, but holds it in. The way he’s standing, like he owns the joint, is enough to make Alec stand back with a smile and cross his arms. 

“I’m more a butterfly expert, actually.”

“There ain’t no butterflies on the football team, dude.” The guy smirks right at Alec; he refrains from sending one back. That’s when he thrusts his hand forward, not even waiting for Alec to send him back his own. He takes Alec’s hand in his own, shaking it up and down. “I’m Raj. Second year, vice Captain of the football team here at Alicante. And frankly, I feel like you could be doing a whole lot better if you came and signed up over on my table, instead.” 

Alec pulls his hand back suddenly, trying not to laugh at the way Raj’s face drops. 

“I’m Alec Lightwood, and frankly, I feel like swimming could wipe the floor with football, sports wise.” Alec didn’t even notice Magnus standing behind him, until he hears the small scoff escape the party planner’s upturned mouth. 

“Come on, Raj. You see those thighs? Those are  _ swimming _ thighs, not kick ball thighs.” Magnus says, not noticing the sudden frazzled expression on Alec’s face at the comment.

He’s not sure what to make of it, but Magnus is defending him in a way he didn’t think he would. As Magnus shoots a glimmering glance at Raj’s face, his eyes gleaming with authority, Raj visibly gulps, but it’s not long before his chest is pumped out again, the corners of his mouth practically at each side of his face. 

“Ah, so now I see. You let  _ Bane _ get you.” Alec’s face drops, suddenly, his heart plummeting to the bottom of his gut. “Well-- you are just his type. He goes for the pretty athletes--,”

“Hey--,” Alec lets out, not realising that he’s just advanced a lot closer to the sign up table. Raj moves back quickly against the swimming banner, letting out a small scoff. “I’m--  _ not _ \--,”

“Wow, someone really is  _ deep _ in that clo--,” Magnus pushes himself forward, cutting off the vice captain. 

“ _ Back up _ now, young Rajesh. The adults are about to talk.” Magnus says, his voice flowing over the tension like a cooling agent. Alec’s whole body is so numb that he doesn’t even feel Magnus’ palm pushing back against his chest. Alec’s eyes are still staring at Raj. “Alec,” Magnus utters, and that’s when Alec returns to the land of the living. “Don’t listen to him. He does this all the time.”

Alec takes a step back from Magnus’ grip, inhaling deeply to calm himself down. 

In a few steps, he’s back at the sign up table, a new pen in his hand, his name finally down on the swimming sign up sheet. Alec stares at Raj, his eyebrows furrowed with a kind of anger that he’s never felt before in his life. 

“Have fun in your speedos,” Raj adds, just as Alec decides to shoot him a smile, before walking away, Magnus following close behind him. They get away from the main event, but not too far out. 

Alec knows he should probably say something-- I mean he denied it, obviously-- why wouldn’t he? And how Magnus’ face didn’t change one bit at Raj’s gross words; Alec’s brain is practically slapping him to say something decent. 

But, obviously-- Magnus beats him to it. 

“You know, when Raj mentioned the speedos? I know for a fact that he passes the pool every week at the exact same time, just as the team get ready to start diving practice.” The way he says it, the way his eyebrows perk up and his mouth wiggles--

Alec can’t stop himself from laughing. It’s not a small laugh either, it’s  _ full _ on, like his lungs decided to start tap dancing inside his body. The anxiety eating away at Alec’s insides disappears as fast as it appeared, and once again he’s reminded of why he was mesmerised by Magnus in the beginning. 

Maybe it wasn’t just about the way the moonlight hits him, or the way the smoke coiled around his face-- it was about the way he spoke, his attitude, his very aura that left Alec with more questions than he’s willing to get down on the ground and beg to have answered. 

And, one of those questions is answered today--

Magnus isn’t straight. 

And that’s  _ okay.  _

It’s  _ more _ than okay.  _ It’s normal.  _

But that doesn’t mean the anxiety biting away inside Alec’s gut goes away any faster. In fact-- it doubles its biting speed, burying deeper into his inner abdomen, making his laughs fizzle out until there’s nothing but empty air between the swimmer and the party planner. 

Magnus can sense it; Alec knows. And the fear that radiates beneath the surface of his calm exterior is like a tsunami eradicating underwater mountains. 

“Anyway-- the art club table awaits.” Magnus says, his eyes flickering over Alec’s slightly less pale face and bobbing his head to the side slightly. “Will you be alright?” 

Magnus can see Alec’s wall rising up instantly. 

“Ha, of course I’m alright. Don’t worry about it.” 

“Well, then,” Magnus ends on, hovering his hand in between the two of them. Alec smiles at his hand, letting out a tuft of air through his nostrils and taking Magnus’ hand in his own. “We need to stop meeting like this, Alexander.” Alec can’t help it; he can’t help but gulp at Magnus’ smile as it wraps around his entire face. 

Alec watches as he walks away, his strides large and confident. 

Magnus doesn’t look back, too afraid that if he did, Alec would catch on immediately to what he just did--

That being the small folded bit of paper that he just slipped inside that big, oblivious, idiot’s jeans; the contents being nothing more than Magnus’ name, and an eleven digit number combination. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> remember you can find us on twitter @sparklybuck and @karasunoflyy! we love seeing all your comments and support!!

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!


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